Joy and Sorrow
by The Syndicate1
Summary: Finished! This is an alternate universe type story. Here Joe and Frank are young and this case is actually solved by Fenton Hardy. The kicker....this is how Joe became a member of the Hardy family.
1. Default Chapter

Breathing heavily, his body aching with every step, the small child ran as fast as he could toward the station wagon. He clambered onto the top and scrambled in with the luggage, beneath the tarp. He held his breath fearfully as he heard the family emerge from the cabin and climb into the car. The doors slammed, the motor started, and they were off. The road was rocky and every bump caused a fresh ache in the battered child. Soon, he could take no more and blessed darkness consumed his mind.  
  
When he came to, the car had stopped moving. Cautiously, he peered from beneath the tarp. They had stopped in front of a two-story house at the corner of two streets, both thickly lined with trees. Seeing no one, he wriggled out from beneath the tarp, intending to get off the car and slink away unnoticed, but his foot slipped, and with a yelp, he fell backward towards the pavement below.  
  
From inside the house, a tall man in his early thirties had seen the child emerge from beneath the tarp, and had come running outside. He reached the car just as the child started to fall, and managed to catch him before he hit the ground.  
  
The child looked up into rich brown, concerned eyes. His own blue eyes terror-filled, the little boy once again allowed darkness to overwhelm him.  
  
The next time the child awoke, he was lying on something that felt like a cushioned table. He sat up and looked around. The man who had caught him stood over in a corner with his arm around a petite, blond woman who was crying. They were listening to a man with balding sandy brown hair, who wore a white lab coat.  
  
"Are you okay?" asked a voice from his left. The blond-headed child turned to look, and saw a brown-haired, brown-eyed, boy who looked a little larger than he was, standing beside him. "Why were you hiding in our luggage?" the boy asked the child on the table. Not receiving an answer, he asked yet another question. "What's your name?"  
  
"Easy, Frank," said the dark-haired man. He and the woman walked over to the boys. "He's been hurt." Fenton Hardy said, speaking gently so as not to make the blond child more anxious than he already was.  
  
"Hi, sweetie," the woman said. "My name is Laura Hardy and this is my husband, Fenton, and our son, Frank." she introduced herself and her family. "What's your name?"  
  
Instead of answering, the child started breathing heavily, his face still filled with fear.  
  
"Fenton," said a voice from the doorway. Fenton turned around and saw Bayport's Chief of Police, Ezra Collig, standing there. "Have you found out who he is?" Ezra asked, coming into the room.  
  
"Not yet." Fenton replied with a shake of his head.  
  
"Easy baby, it's okay." Laura said to the child, who had begun struggling, trying to get off the table. His eyes had gone wide and he started whimpering at the sight of the uniformed Chief Collig.  
  
Ezra realized his presence was upsetting the child. "I'll wait outside," he said, and left the room.  
  
"He's gone." Fenton said soothingly to the frightened boy.  
  
"I won't go back!" The child spoke for the first time. "Not again, I can't." he added, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with unheard sobs. "Please don't make me!"  
  
"The only place you're going is home with us." Laura told him gently. "No one is going to hurt you. I promise," she added, sitting beside him and taking him in her arms.  
  
"Why were you afraid of Chief Collig?" Frank asked, wrinkling his forehead in curiosity.  
  
"He...he'll take me back!" the child replied, still crying.  
  
"No he won't," Fenton assured the boy. "The police are here to help."  
  
"They took me back last time," the child protested. "They said I shouldn't lie on...." He quit speaking as if realizing he might have already said too much.  
  
"Did you hitch a ride on our car from Burnsville?" Fenton asked softly. The child never spoke but shivered in Laura's arms.  
  
"We're not taking you back there," Fenton promised the boy. "We're taking you home with us. We just need to know who hurt you so we can make sure they never do it again."  
  
The doctor came over and looked at the boy. "I need to finish bandaging your ribs," he said gently. He looked at Fenton. "His leg needs a cast."  
  
"It's not broke!" Frank piped up in protest.  
  
"It was recently," the doctor explained. "It hasn't been healing right. It has to be corrected or he will have problems when he gets older," he added to Laura who was looking at him with terror in her eyes.  
  
"No!" she argued, knowing she was going to lose. "He's been hurt enough."  
  
"It won't hurt," he promised. He walked over to a cabinet and unlocked it. He removed a bottle and took a pill from it. He then replaced the bottle and relocked the cabinet.  
  
Fenton realized what the doctor had in mind. He went to the sink and took a disposable cup, and filled it with water. Going over to the child, he gave him the cup of water as the doctor opened his hand, showing him the pill.  
  
"If you'll swallow this, you won't feel anything," the doctor promised. "You'll go to sleep and when you wake up, you'll be feeling better."  
  
The child looked at him suspiciously but deciding he really had nothing to lose, took the pill and put it in his mouth. He drank all the water and Fenton took the cup away. Less than twenty minutes later, the child was sound asleep.  
  
Again, the child awoke in a strange place. He was on the bottom of a set of bunk beds, and the woman from earlier was sitting in a chair beside the bed, sound asleep. To his surprise, he discovered his leg was encased in a plaster cast.  
  
"Hey," whispered Frank, hearing the child stirring, and poking his head down from the bunk above. "You never did tell me your name."  
  
The child looked up at him and swallowed. He looked over at the woman who had been so nice to him. "I...I'm not sure." he said, finally.  
  
"You have to know your own name." Frank insisted quietly. "What do your mom and dad call you?"  
  
"I don't have a mom." the boy informed him, his soft voice sad.  
  
"Well, what does your dad call you?" Frank persisted.  
  
"Different things." the boy replied, after a moment.  
  
"What?" Frank demanded impatiently.  
  
"Stupid, brat, idiot...worthless...." the child mumbled, so softly Frank could barely hear.  
  
Now it was Frank's turn to swallow. "How about Joe?" he asked, after a moment's thought. "You kinda look like my G.I. Joe action figure."  
  
The child just shrugged, like he didn't really care.  
  
"Okay, Joe it is!" Frank said. He stuck his right arm down. "Nice to meet you, Joe."  
  
Joe looked at the proffered hand and slowly put his hand into it. Frank squeezed gently and let it go. "You want something to drink?"  
  
Joe shook his head. "I do need to go to the bathroom though." he added, looking dubiously at the cast on his leg.  
  
"I'll help!" Frank said. Forgetting to be quiet, he jumped down to the floor.  
  
His mother jerked awake. "Frank, get back in bed." she said firmly.  
  
"But Joe has to go to the bathroom." Frank argued, looking at her with his big dark eyes.  
  
"Go get your father," she told him. "It will be easier if he carries...Joe?" she asked, looking down at him. "Is that your name?"  
  
"I named him." Frank said, leaving the room. "He didn't have one."  
  
"Joe...Joseph. I like that," Laura said, smiling at him. "It suits you. How are you feeling now, honey?" she asked.  
  
"Okay." he said quietly.  
  
"Hi," Fenton said, walking into the bedroom behind Frank. He came over and looked down at Joe. "I'm going to carry you into the bathroom." he told Joe. "If it hurts, let me know and I'll go slower. The doctor gave you a prescription for pain in case you need it." he added, leaning over and gently lifting Joe out of bed.  
  
Five minutes later, Fenton lowered Joe back onto the bed. He reached over and ruffled Joe's hair. "You better take your medicine." he suggested when Joe winced. He realized Joe was still afraid of him, and wouldn't tell him even though he was hurting.  
  
"I'll get it." Laura said and left the room.  
  
"So, you want us to call you Joe?" Fenton asked. Frank had told him about naming Joe.  
  
Joe gave a slight nod and Fenton smiled. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, noticing Joe trying to move in the bed.  
  
Joe froze and looked up, fear showing in his eyes.  
  
"It's okay," Fenton said, fighting back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him as he took in the sight of the malnourished, abused child. "It's just that I'd like you to tell us if you're uncomfortable, so that we can do something about it. Casts are bothersome, but when it comes off you'll be good as new."  
  
"Yeah, and they itch." Frank said, wrinkling his nose. "I broke my arm when I fell out of a tree last summer. It hurt for about a week and then it just itched a lot."  
  
"Don't worry," Fenton quickly assured Joe, noting his forlorn expresssion. "We'll rig you up something so you can reach inside the cast and scratch."  
  
"Here we go," Laura said, coming into the room with a tray. "You need something to eat before you take your medicine." she said. "We don't want you getting sick."  
  
She set the tray down on the nightstand and sat back down in the chair she had vacated earlier. "I hope you like chicken noodle soup." she said, picking up the bowl. She lifted the spoon to her lips and sipped. "Good," she said. "It's not too hot." She took another spoonful and brought it to Joe's lips. He sipped at it as she had done, and felt the warm broth slide down his throat. Laura set the bowl down on the tray and placed the tray over Joe's lap.  
  
Ignoring the spoon, he picked up the bowl and drank the soup, chewing a stray piece of chicken every now and then. Within five minutes every noodle was gone. Laura gave him his medicine and soon he was asleep.  
  
"Dad," Frank whispered as he was being tucked into bed. "Why would Joe's father hurt him like that?"  
  
"We don't know it was his father who hurt him." Fenton said, pulling the covers up to Frank's chest.  
  
"Joe said he called him stupid and stuff like that," Frank persisted, putting his arms on top of the covers. "That's why I named him. He didn't even know his own name."  
  
"Did he say anything else?" Fenton asked, frowning.  
  
"He doesn't talk much." Frank stated, shaking his head.  
  
Laura kissed Frank's forehead. "Thanks, sweetie." she said.  
  
"For what?" Frank asked, his forehead wrinkling as his father's had only a moment before.  
  
"For being nice to him." Fenton answered for her.  
  
"Someone needs to be." Frank replied sleepily, his eyes closing.  
  
Frank opened his eyes. What was it that had awakened him? There it was again...a low moan. Frank leaned over and looked at the boy on the bunk beneath his.  
  
Joe's eyes were shut, but he was whimpering, tears streaming down his face. "Please, don't Daddy," he begged. "Please stop...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he repeated over and over. Each sentence was interlaced with a new moan.  
  
Frank jumped out of bed and ran to his parents' room. "Joe needs you!" he shouted, waking them up, then running back to his own room with Fenton already behind him.  
  
"Wake up," Fenton commanded Joe, reaching over to brush the hair from his face. Joe's eyes shot open, and he scooted back against the wall as fast as the cast would allow him. "Easy now, I'm not going to hurt you." Fenton reassured the terrified child.  
  
Frank slipped in front of his father and sat down on the bed with Joe. "You're okay," he said, putting an arm around Joe's shoulders and hugging him. Frank looked at his parents standing nearby, unable to hide their tears. He looked down at the boy he held, and started crying too. "You're okay," Frank told Joe again. "We won't let anyone hurt you, ever again," he promised. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning found Fenton in his study, talking to Agent Greg Rathbone, who was with the Burnsville Police Internal Affairs Division. He had decided to obtain information about the police in Burnsville. Apparently, there had been more than a few complaints about the police chief there but nothing had ever been proven. Fenton suggested the agent renew his investigation of the man, explaining his interest. Rathbone promised to be in touch, and Fenton hung up.  
  
Next, Fenton called Chief Collig. "Ezra," he said after he had been put through. "Have you found out anything?"  
  
"The Burnsville PD put out a BOLO on him." Ezra informed Fenton of the Be-on-the-Lookout notification which had been placed on the wire late last night. "It says his name is Jeffrey Wood and he's the seven year old, only son of multi-millionaire, Jim Wood."  
  
"He looks younger than that." Fenton stated. "You haven't reported him found, have you?"  
  
"Not yet," Ezra admitted. "But it does have to be."  
  
"I know." Fenton said. "I called my lawyer first thing this morning." he continued. "I also contacted Social Services. Laura and I are filing for an adoption."  
  
"Do you think that's wise?" Ezra asked. "What if it wasn't his parents who did this to him? He would have to go back."  
  
"Ezra, Laura and I got maybe two hours of sleep last night. Joe - that's what he wants to be called; Frank named him! - was having nightmares. Just as soon as he fell asleep, he would start crying and whimpering. He talked, too. He begged his dad to stop...." Fenton paused and cleared his throat. "I swear that man has a lot to answer for," he finished, menacingly.  
  
"Easy, Fenton," Ezra cautioned him. "I know you've taken a special interest in this boy, but if you go overboard, you'll be hurting yourself, and your family, as well."  
  
"Don't worry," Fenton promised his friend. "This is going to be by the book. Whoever turns out to be responsible for hurting Joe won't have a chance of getting off on a technicality."  
  
After hanging up, Fenton went downstairs to the kitchen where Laura was busy preparing breakfast. "Hi," he said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck.  
  
"Hi, yourself," she replied a bit huskily. "Breakfast is almost ready. If it's okay with you, I thought we would eat in the living room so Joe could be comfortable on the couch."  
  
"Great idea," he approved. "I'll go and help him get ready."  
  
Fenton flipped on the light as he walked into Frank's bedroom. "Up and at 'em boys!" he said, tousling Frank's hair as he stepped up to the bunk beds. "Mom's got breakfast almost ready. How are you feeling this morning?" Fenton asked Joe, stooping beside the bed.  
  
"Okay," Joe said softly, warily eyeing Fenton.  
  
"Hungry?" Fenton asked him. Joe nodded slowly. "All right," Fenton said, smiling and standing up. "I'm going to carry you to the bathroom, and then when you're ready, I'll carry you downstairs." he told Joe.  
  
"Okay," Joe replied timidly.  
  
"Frank, you can use our bathroom to get dressed in, this morning," Fenton told his son.  
  
" 'Kay," Frank agreed, rubbing his eyes. He waited for his father to pick Joe up before he jumped down and grabbed his clothes. When he was dressed, he returned to his bedroom and went to his toy chest. Pulling something out, he sat down on the bottom bunk and waited for Joe and his dad to come out of the bathroom.  
  
"You could have gone on down," Fenton told Frank, carefully placing Joe on the bunk.  
  
"I know," Frank replied. "But I wanted to give Joe something before I went to school." he added, picking up the item he'd taken from his toy box and handing it to Joe. "It's an Etch-a-Sketch," Frank told him. "You turn the white knobs to make pictures, and to erase them, you turn it upside down and shake it."  
  
Joe looked at the toy in his hands, then back at Frank, and slowly smiled, for the first time since he had been discovered. It was a shy smile, but still, it lighted his features, and made him look like a different child.  
  
"Okay, let's go to breakfast." Fenton said, swallowing the lump in his throat. Fenton carried Joe downstairs and set him gently down on the sofa, making sure his leg was comfortable. He then placed a tray over Joe's lap.  
  
Frank picked up a cup of orange juice and put it on the tray, then sat down on the floor, next to the near-by coffee table.  
  
Laura came in carrying two plates, piled high with pancakes. She handed one to Frank, and placed the other on Joe's tray. "Fenton, help me bring in the rest?" she requested, going back into the kitchen. Soon, everything was in the living room, and Laura took a seat beside Fenton.  
  
Fenton buttered Joe's pancakes and poured syrup on them, then did the same for Frank.  
  
"Mom makes the best pancakes!" Frank dug into his breakfast with gusto.  
  
"Slow down!" Laura ordered Frank. "Don't eat too fast, you'll get sick."  
  
"I'll miss my bus." Frank explained why he was eating fast.  
  
"I'll take you to school." Fenton told him.  
  
"Okay, then." Frank said and started eating slower. He looked up at Joe who was resting his head upon his hand, no longer eating. "Aren't you hungry?" he asked.  
  
"Not anymore." Joe replied. He had eaten perhaps four bites of his pancakes. "I'm stuffed."  
  
"That's okay," Laura said. "I'm sure your appetite will return in a day or two."  
  
After breakfast, Fenton switched on the television for Joe to watch, and sent Frank after his book bag. He then helped Laura carry the dishes into the kitchen. "After I drop Frank off, I'm going over to Burnsville," Fenton said, then proceeded to tell Laura what Ezra Collig had said about Joe.  
  
"Jim Wood, huh?" she asked, frowning. "Now why does that name sound so familiar?" She thought about it for a minute then shook her head, strands of her long hair coming to rest on her husband's shoulder. "I know I've heard it before, but I can't remember."  
  
"If you do, tell me." Fenton requested. "In the meantime, I am going to go ahead with the adoption plans."  
  
"Good." Laura replied, smiling up into Fenton's golden brown eyes. "When are we going to tell Frank?"  
  
"Tell me what?" Frank demanded, appearing in the doorway at that moment with his book bag.  
  
Fenton looked at Laura who nodded; then he knelt down in front of Frank. "Son," he said, putting a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Your mother and I are thinking that we'd like Joe to be a part of our family. We want to adopt him. How would you feel about that?"  
  
"You mean he'd be my brother?" Frank asked.  
  
"Your little brother to be exact," Fenton concurred. "He's a year younger than you."  
  
"WAHOO!" yipped Frank. He slipped from beneath his father's arm and ran into the living room. "Guess what?" he shouted, rushing over and sitting on the edge of the couch, next to the startled Joe. "You're going to be my brother!" he announced, his brown eyes shining. "Wait until the guys find out I've got a brother!" he added excitedly as his parents walked into the room.  
  
"Really?" Joe asked, looking at the Hardys as if he could scarcely believe his ears.  
  
"If you want to." Laura said, coming over and smoothing his wavy blond hair out of his eyes. She kissed him on the forehead.  
  
"We'd be honored if you would be a part of our family." Fenton told him, smiling fondly at Joe, and then at Frank, who had started to hug the younger boy.  
  
"Isn't it great?" enthused Frank. "You can have half my room," he added. "And when you go to school, I'll introduce you to Chet and Tony and Biff." he said, naming his three best friends.  
  
Joe smiled a little at Frank's excitement, then looked up at Laura. He smiled at her too. "I'd like that." he said quietly.  
  
"Good," Fenton said, leaning over the couch and giving Joe a light hug so as not to hurt or frighten him. "We'd like you to call us Mom and Dad, but if you don't feel comfortable with that yet, you can call us Laura and Fenton."  
  
"He'll call you Mom and Dad." Frank said with authority. "Won't you?" he demanded, looking hard at his new brother-to-be. Joe nodded, and Frank grinned. He had always wanted a little brother who would listen to him.  
  
"We'd better go," Fenton said to Frank. "You're going to be late." He ruffled Joe's hair and dropped a kiss on top of his head. "Bye, son," he said. "I'll see you later."  
  
Laura escorted Fenton and Frank outside. "Be careful!" she begged Fenton, as they shared a goodbye embrace.  
  
"I will." he promised, getting in the car.  
  
Laura hugged Frank and kissed his cheek. "You have a good day." she said. "Behave yourself!"  
  
Frank grinned, and climbed into the front seat and buckled up.  
  
Laura went back inside as they were leaving and saw Joe playing with the Etch-a-Sketch. "We need to get you some clothes of your own, and toys," she said to him,  
  
Joe looked up at her. "Do you really want me?" he asked. When she nodded, he continued. "Why?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, coming over and sitting down beside him. "You're a wonderful little boy."  
  
"I'm not, though," he said, looking up into her bright blue eyes with his own haunted ones. "I killed my mother." 


	3. Chapter 3

"What?" she asked in shocked disbelief. "How could you have done that?"  
  
Joe shrugged. "Dad said I killed her," he explained. "He said if I hadn't been born, she would still be alive, but I was born, and I killed her." Tears formed in his eyes, and slid down his cheeks.  
  
"Oh, honey," Laura said, pulling Joe into her arms, tears filling her own eyes. "You didn't kill her. You haven't done anything wrong."  
  
"Then why did she die?" Joe asked, sniffling.  
  
"Your mother was sick before she got pregnant with you." Laura explained, finally remembering why the name Jim Wood had sounded so familiar. She took Joe's chin and lifted his head up so he had to look in her eyes.  
  
"I met your mother," she told him. "I worked as a volunteer at the hospital where she was admitted. She had leukemia but she wanted a baby more than anything. She knew she was taking a risk but she got pregnant anyway. It wasn't you that killed Daisy, it was cancer." She wrapped her arms about Joe and held him close.  
  
"Daisy?" Joe asked, sniffing through his tears. "That was her name?"  
  
"Yes," Laura replied softly. She was shocked Jim Wood hadn't even told Joe his own mother's name. "Daisy Jo Greene Wood. She married Jim Wood about eleven years ago. I only met him once," she added. "but I didn't like him."  
  
"Me either," Joe said. He laid his head against Laura's shoulder, and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, he drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, he found his new mom had fallen asleep with him, still clasping him in her arms. He tried to move away without waking her but she stirred and opened her eyes.  
  
"Hi." she said, smiling down at him.  
  
"Hi," he replied, smiling back shyly. "Um...." Joe hesitated. He wanted to go to the bathroom but he was a bit embarrassed to ask her.  
  
Laura kissed his forehead, where the blond waves of hair tumbled over. "What say we take you upstairs, get you dressed in some of Frank's old clothes, and after we clean up the breakfast dishes, take you shopping for some things of your own?"  
  
"But I can't walk." Joe reminded her.  
  
"You aren't heavy." she told him. "Not even with that cast on. And when we leave, there's a wheelchair in the garage from when Fenton was hurt a while back."  
  
"Mom-" Joe said as she stood up. She turned around and looked down at him with bright eyes. "Thanks."  
  
"Anytime, baby." she replied, and picking him up, carried him up the stairs.  
  
Over in Burnsville, Fenton had just arrived at the police station. "I would like to speak with Chief Greer." Fenton told the sergeant at the front desk.  
  
The sergeant looked up from his paperwork and eyed the man standing before him. "Who are you?" he demanded.  
  
"I'm a private investigator," Fenton identified himself. "My name is Fenton Hardy."  
  
"Hardy...Hardy...why does that name sound familiar?" the sergeant queried, looking at him thoughtfully. "Oh, yeah," he said, perking up as he remembered. "You're the guy who shut down that smuggling ring that was operating in Bayport last month, right?"  
  
"Yes, that was me." Fenton admitted, slightly embarrassed at the recognition, but pleased none the less.  
  
"I'll let him know you're here." the sergeant said, hitting the intercom. "Go on up," Fenton was told, after a moment's conversation. "The chief's office is on the second floor."  
  
"Thank you." Fenton replied, and departed in the direction of the stairs. A few minutes later, he was sitting in Chief Greer's office. Facing him from behind the desk was a chubby man with black hair and a black mustache. When he stood, Fenton saw that he was below medium height, perhaps about five-feet-nine. His green eyes were watchful, as if trying to find something, which might be hidden.  
  
"What can I do for you?" he asked.  
  
"I was told you were looking for a little boy." Fenton replied. "I was in town and thought I might be able to help."  
  
"That's not necessary." Chief Greer told him with a little laugh. "We're positive he just ran away from home - no one else was involved in his disappearance."  
  
"Even so," Fenton said, instinctively disliking this man intensely. "it's dangerous for a seven year old child to be on his own."  
  
"His father has a pretty good idea the boy is staying at a friend's house. He asked us not to file a missing persons report. He wants him to come home on his own." Chief Greer told Fenton with a smile which never reached his eyes.  
  
"Well, then," said Fenton, rising. "I guess I'll leave the matter in your capable hands."  
  
"I'm sorry it was a waste of your time," Chief Greer said, standing and shaking Fenton's hand as he led him to the door.  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Fenton replied. Greer narrowed his eyes at Fenton. "I did get to meet Burnsville's finest!" the detective ad-libbed. "Goodbye."  
  
When Fenton arrived home later that afternoon, Frank was just getting off the bus.  
  
"Dad!" Frank shouted and ran to meet him as Fenton exited the car. "Is Joe my brother yet?"  
  
"Not yet." Fenton replied, smiling down at Frank and messing his hair affectionately. "It's going to take a little time."  
  
"How are my two handsome men this afternoon?" Laura asked, opening the door for them.  
  
"Oh, mom!" Frank grumbled, embarrassed but secretly pleased to be referred to as a man.  
  
"Joe's upstairs." she told him. "Why don't you go tell him about school?"  
  
Frank took off running up the stairs.  
  
"Jim Wood was Daisy Greene's husband." she told Fenton when Frank had gone. "She died when Joe was born....That bastard made Joe believe he was responsible for her dying."  
  
"Oh, God," Fenton said, shocked. "That kid's been through Hell."  
  
Laura nodded her head in agreement. "Fenton, I met him once, right before Daisy died. He was very possessive, and he made it clear he didn't want a child. They were only having one because Daisy insisted."  
  
"Hmmm...if he blames Joe for Daisy's death, that might explain why he abuses him." Fenton hypothesized. He told Laura about his meeting with Chief Greer.  
  
"He's lying!" she burst out angrily, her face flushed. "They both are! That...that... thing," she sneered, referring to Joe's natural father, "has no idea where Joe is. He probably hopes Joe won't ever come back."  
  
"Easy, honey." Fenton said, pulling Laura into his arms. "I'm going back to Burnsville in the morning." he said then. "Wood is looking for a personal assistant and I'm going to be exactly what he needs."  
  
"Just be careful," Laura begged. "If he finds out you're investigating him, there's no telling what he might do!"  
  
"I will be," he promised. "I have to get close enough so I can get something besides the child abuse to use against him. It would make it a lot easier on Joe and us if I can prove he is doing something illegal."  
  
Just then there was the sound of breaking glass from the boys' room - followed by a frightened cry from Joe, and an angry shout from Frank! 


	4. Chapter 4

Fenton and Laura raced up the stairs and down the hallway to the boys' room, coming to a standstill in the doorway. Laura went weak with relief when she saw what had caused all the commotion.  
  
Frank was standing by the bed, scowling down at a broken snow globe. Joe, sitting on the lower bunk, saw Fenton and Laura enter the room and cowered back against the wall.  
  
"I'm sorry," Joe said, crying. "I'm sorry."  
  
"What for?" Frank asked, looking at him in confusion. "I'm the one who dropped the stupid thing."  
  
Fenton walked over, picked Frank up, and sat him on the top bunk away from the broken glass. He stooped down and Joe flinched. "It's okay!" Fenton told him, reaching out to push a stray lock of hair from Joe's eyes. "I'll clean it up and then you two can play some more."  
  
Joe looked at Fenton, his eyes holding a mixture of wonder and fear. His real father would have beaten him senseless for something like this. "You - you're not...going to hit me?" he quavered, not quite believing it.  
  
"Never," Fenton vowed, staring solemnly into the boy's eyes. "There's nothing you could ever do, that would make me hit you." he promised.  
  
"Nothing?" Joe asked, hesitantly.  
  
"Nothing." Fenton reasserted.  
  
"Wh...what if I broke a window?" Joe asked, curiosity overcoming fear. The Hardys caught a glimpse of the mischievous creature hiding within the terrified child.  
  
"Not even if you broke every window on every house on the block." Fenton assured him, smiling inside, although he managed to keep his face serious.  
  
"You mean you won't punish him if he does something bad?" Frank asked curiously - and enviously.  
  
"I didn't say that." Fenton said, standing up and looking at Frank. "He'll get the same type of punishment I give you."  
  
"Oh," Frank said, leaning down and looking at Joe. "He'll make you write a whole page about why you shouldn't have done it." he confided, making a face.  
  
Joe gave him an impish grin, and relaxed.  
  
The next morning, Fenton helped get Joe ready for school and, once again, the Hardys had breakfast in the living room. After breakfast, Fenton departed for Burnsville. Laura gave Joe a pair of small crutches she had found in the garage, and drove the two boys to school.  
  
Frank went ahead to his homeroom while Laura went with Joe to the principal's office.  
  
Two hours later, after Joe was tested to find out how much he knew, and Social Services had been contacted, Joe was taken to his new classroom. He was a little behind the other second graders, but not enough to warrant being put back in first grade. Laura assured his teacher she would work with him at home until he caught up, then promised Joe that she would pick him and Frank up after school.  
  
Meanwhile, Fenton had checked out the address for Jim Wood and driven there, to apply for the job of his personal assistant.  
  
In order not to be recognized, he had stopped in at Erin's Hair Designs in Bayport before leaving. Erin had helped Fenton with his disguises before, so she wasn't surprised when he dropped in and asked her to lighten his hair and eyebrows to a dirty blond shade. This she did, then glued on a dishwater-blond mustache, just a tad darker, as well.  
  
"I'm using super-glue on this mustache." she told him. "When you want to remove it, you'll have to use fingernail polish remover." Fenton paid her, thanked her for her help, and left for Burnsville.  
  
Fenton rang Wood's doorbell and waited. Perhaps two minutes later, the door opened, revealing a large man, about six-feet-four, roughly three hundred pounds, and muscular.  
  
"May I help you?" the man asked, his brown eyes boring into Fenton.  
  
"I'm here to apply for the position of personal assistant." Fenton stated firmly, his tone demonstrating to the man that he was not intimidated by either his size or his demeanor.  
  
The man moved aside and said, "Come in. I'm Mr. Wood's butler, William. Billy to my friends and peers. If you will have a seat," he added, leading Fenton into the study, "I'll tell him you've arrived. Who might I say you are?" he asked as Fenton sat down.  
  
"Jeff King." Fenton introduced himself. Billy nodded, then left the room. Fenton sat quietly, observing the room from the chair. He had a feeling he was being watched, so he wanted to prove he could follow orders.  
  
Five minutes later, a blond-headed, blue-eyed man walked into the room. He stood six foot two and weighed roughly one hundred and eighty pounds. Fenton could see the resemblance to Joe - this man was definitely Joe's father. Fenton felt his teeth clench, remembering Joe's nightmares and pleas of "Daddy- stop." Deliberately, he made himself relax.  
  
"Mr. Wood?" Fenton asked, rising to meet him. Wood nodded. "My name is Jeff King. I am here to apply for the position of personal assistant."  
  
"Do you have any experience?" Wood asked, sitting down and motioning for Fenton to do likewise.  
  
Fenton sat, placing his briefcase on his lap. He opened it up and pulled out the resume he had prepared the night before. He handed it to Wood. "As you can see, my most recent position was that of personal assistant to Anthony Wilkins."  
  
"He died last month, did he not?" Wood inquired, looking from the paper to Fenton's face.  
  
"Yes, sir." Fenton affirmed, not elaborating.  
  
"I believe Wilkins was involved in gun running?" Wood inquired, raising an eyebrow at Fenton.  
  
"I never discuss my employers' - past or present - affairs with anyone." Fenton informed him stiffly, sitting up straight and staring Wood in the eyes, at the same time wondering how Wood knew of Wilkins' 'business.'  
  
Wood's eyes fell first. He looked at the resume again.  
  
"Very well," he said after a few minutes, getting to his feet. "I'll give you a three week trial period." he told Fenton and named his salary. "You will be given a room on the second floor, near mine." he added. "There are times when I will need you in the middle of the night. You will serve as my secretary, confidante, and at times, bodyguard. In order to assure you are capable of the latter, you will have to fight Billy."  
  
"As you wish." Fenton agreed calmly.  
  
Wood looked surprised but pleased. "Billy!" he raised his voice to get the man's attention.  
  
Within seconds, Billy arrived. "Billy Catherson is my butler, chauffeur and valet." Wood informed Fenton. "He also serves as a bodyguard, on occasion." He turned to Billy.  
  
"Show Jeff upstairs and loan him a sweat suit. You two will hold your sparring match in the courtyard, in thirty minutes. 


	5. Chapter 5

Back in Bayport, Joe was getting used to his new surroundings. He didn't see Frank again until lunch time, when they were allowed to sit together, because of Joe's injury.  
  
"Joe!" Frank shouted, seeing Joe come into the lunch room. Frank left his table and went to help Joe with his lunch tray. He carried the tray back to his table and set it beside his own, then helped Joe to sit down.  
  
"Joe, this is Biff, Tony, Phil and Chet." Frank introduced his brother-to-be to his friends.  
  
Biff Hooper was eight-years-old, and stout from having taken steroids the previous year, to combat an illness. He was blond, with green eyes, and he had decided he wanted to be a boxer like his cousin Biff. He asked all his friends to call him Biff, although his real name was Allen. Tony Prito was a seven-year-old boy of Italian descent, with dark hair and eyes, and an engaging grin.  
  
Phil Cohen, a tall, slender boy with thick sandy brown hair and hazel eyes, was eight-years-old and new to Bayport, having moved to the city with his parents at the start of the school year.  
  
Blond Chet Morton, age seven, obviously enjoyed eating. He observed Joe, between bites of macaroni and cheese, with interested brown eyes. "Are you really Frank's new brother?" he asked.  
  
"I will be." Joe admitted, a bit shyly.  
  
"Great! The dweeb gets a twerp for a brother." sneered Ike Detweiler from a nearby table. Ike was nine years old, with brown hair and blue eyes, and was known to be a bully.  
  
"Get lost, Ike." Frank said, with a tone in his voice, which took his friends by surprise.  
  
"Stow it, Hardy." Ike retorted, grabbing the apple from Joe's tray. "I just want to make the brat welcome."  
  
Frank stood up and got in Ike's face, his eyes unblinking as he stared into Ike's. "Give it back and apologize." Frank said in a deceptively calm tone.  
  
"What are you?" Ike demanded. "His mother?"  
  
Frank reached out and snatched the apple, handing it to Joe before Ike could so much as blink.  
  
"You'll pay for that!" Ike snarled, shoving Frank.  
  
Joe's eyes went wide in fear but Frank lifted his foot and kicked Ike in the shin. Then he poked him hard in the chest. "You leave Joe alone, or else." he warned.  
  
"Or else what?" Ike demanded, laughing. "You'll poke me again?"  
  
"No," Frank replied, seriously. "I'll wipe the floor with you."  
  
"You mean little Joey can't fight his own battles?" Ike mocked.  
  
"I mean, as long as he's my brother, he won't have to." Frank stated firmly. Ike locked gazes with Frank for a moment, then abruptly turned and walked away.  
  
"All right, Frank!" whooped Biff, Tony and Chet. Phil grinned his approval. Joe stared at Frank with something akin to hero-worship in his blue eyes.  
  
"Let's eat." Frank suggested, sitting back down and applying himself to his lunch. The other boys followed his example.  
  
"You have Mrs. McIntyre, don't you?" Biff asked Joe, as they ate. Joe nodded. "I had her last year. She talks funny."  
  
"Yeah, she does," Joe agreed, grinning. "She says funny sses."  
  
"Ah, that's nothing. That crazy woman told my parents I needed speech lessons. She said I couldn't talk plain," Chet complained, shaking his head.  
  
"What did your parents say?" Frank asked. He hadn't heard this before.  
  
"They took me to see her and to find out about getting lessons, but when she started talking to them, they changed their minds." Chet stopped and laughed. "Mom told Dad in the car on the way home that the only person who needed help talking was Mrs. McIntyre. And I got switched to Miss Richards' class."  
  
Tony nodded. "I heard she tries to get at least one student a year to have speech lessons."  
  
"Wonder who she is going to pick on this year," Frank said.  
  
All too soon, in Joe's opinion, lunch was over and Frank stood up with his friends. "Are you finished eating?" he asked Joe.  
  
"Yes." he replied.  
  
"I'll take your tray with mine, then." Frank offered. "I'll see you later." he added, piling Joe's tray on top of his own and leaving with the other boys.  
  
Joe watched them depart, feeling suddenly lonely. A young girl from his own class came over and sat down beside him. "Hi," she said, a bit shyly. "My name is Callie Shaw. How did you get to know so many older kids your first day here?" she asked, her brown eyes questioning, as she brushed back a strand of blond hair from her face.  
  
"Frank is going to be my brother." Joe told her, giving her a half smile.  
  
"What do you mean, going to be?" Callie demanded. "Either he is your brother or he isn't."  
  
"I'm being adopted." Joe informed her proudly.  
  
"Wow!" Callie said, awestruck. "I've never known a 'dopted kid before. Are you and Frank going to be real brothers for good?"  
  
Joe nodded. "He's going to be my big brother," he said with pride.  
  
"You're lucky!" Callie said. "I wouldn't mind having Frank for a big brother."  
  
"I know," Joe agreed, nodding. "Frank is the greatest!"  
  
Back in Burnsville, Fenton had donned the borrowed sweat suit, and made his way to the courtyard for his initiation - for that was what it was. No use calling it something it isn'! he thought. Billy was there ahead of him.  
  
Billy didn't wait for Fenton to ready himself for the attack. He leapt at Fenton, knocking him off balance, and the two tumbled to the ground. Wrapping his strong arms around Billy's neck, Fenton used his left hand to force Billy's head back by applying pressure to his nose. He swung his left leg and pushed him into the ground, gaining the upper hand.  
  
Billy raised his foot and kicked at Fenton's face, but Fenton was ready, and grabbed the foot before contact had been made. Billy rolled over, pulling Fenton with him and gaining the upper hand. His plan was to subdue Fenton with sheer physical strength, but Fenton trapped Billy's arm, and pushing it back, forced him off-balance. Rolling over while hanging onto one of Billy's arms, Fenton managed to reverse their positions. But, unlike Billy, he did not count on his strength to beat his opponent. He immediately pushed Billy onto his side, and grasping his shoulder, used his elbow to push into Billy's throat, cutting off his breath.  
  
"Okay, that's enough." Wood's voice interrupted the fracas. "For someone so small, you're a formidable foe." he congratulated Fenton. "Of course, I mean 'small' in relation to Billy," he added, for Fenton matched his own six-foot-two height; Billy, however, outweighed both of them by approximately 100 pounds!  
  
"Thank you, sir." Fenton said. His breathing was already returning to normal, and he stood up and offered Billy a hand up. Billy accepted the help, and once on his feet, shook Fenton's hand.  
  
"No hard feelings, King." he said. "This was business, nothing personal." Fenton nodded, indicating he understood.  
  
"Would you care for a tour of the house?" Wood asked, as they left the courtyard, preceded by Billy.  
  
"Yes, sir." Fenton said formally, secretly delighted at this opportunity.  
  
Wood escorted Fenton through each room of the house, starting on the first floor and then going upstairs. One room in particular piqued the investigator's interest. On the second floor, the room was much as the others were, save the fact that there was nothing in it to make it welcoming or attractive to an occupant.  
  
This room had no pictures on the walls and no pillow on the bed. The closet held three small pairs of pants and three shirts, nothing more. The bathroom was small, but had all the amenities befitting a house of this magnitude; however, there were no towels, and the tub had a few stains in it. Managing to inspect it more closely, Fenton decided they were bloodstains. He was positive that this was Joe's room.  
  
The final stop was the room, which would be Fenton's own. Wood departed, instructing his new personal assistant to get his things, unpack, and settle in. Fenton obediently went to his car, retrieved his suitcase, and began to unpack...all the while, wondering how Joe's first day of school had gone.  
  
Laura smiled, delighted, as she watched Joe from the doorway of his classroom. She was overjoyed to see that he was chatting with a blond-haired girl, and seemed to be having a good time.  
  
"Joe, your mom is here." Mrs. McIntyre called to him.  
  
Joe looked at his teacher, then at the door, where he saw Laura waiting for him. He smiled, grabbed his crutches, and hobbled over to her.  
  
"Hi, Baby." she said, bending down to give him a hug. "How was your first day?"  
  
"It was fun." he answered her. "I got to have lunch with Frank." Joe added with a grin.  
  
"That's wonderful," she said, ruffling his blond hair. "Let's get Frank and go home, huh?" she suggested.  
  
Joe nodded, and started back to get his backpack, but the little girl had already picked it up and brought it over.  
  
"Here you go." Callie said, handing the book bag to Laura.  
  
"Why, thank you." Laura said, smiling at her.  
  
"Yeah, thanks, Callie." Joe echoed. "See ya tomorrow."  
  
They walked down the hall to Frank's room. When he noticed them, he grabbed his backpack and came running.  
  
"Frank," Mr. Kincaid said sternly. "We do not run in school, except in P.E."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Kincaid." Frank said, looking back apologetically. "Sorry....Bye."  
  
"I'll see you in the morning." Mr. Kincaid said, as Frank left with a wave.  
  
Once again at home, Laura led the boys to the kitchen and fixed them a snack. When they had finished eating, she told them they could play for a bit before starting on their homework. She carried Joe upstairs, while Frank carried the crutches, then left them to their play while she went to do some cleaning in hers and Fenton's bedroom.  
  
"Where is Dad?" Joe asked Frank, once Laura had gone.  
  
"He's probably working." Frank replied with a shrug.  
  
"What does he do?" Joe inquired.  
  
"He's a private investigator." Frank answered proudly.  
  
"What's a private 'vestigator?" Joe wanted to know, his blue eyes shining with curiosity.  
  
"He sees what bad guys do, and takes them to jail." Frank informed him.  
  
"That sounds dangerous." Joe commented. His face puckered into a worried frown, and he began to breathe heavily.  
  
Frank looked quickly at Joe, and realized he was becoming upset. He ran out of the room in search of his mother. "Mom! Joe needs you!" he shouted, running into her bedroom.  
  
Laura followed Frank down the hall and into the boys' room. "Honey, what's wrong?" she asked, sitting down beside Joe and taking him in her arms.  
  
"Where's Dad?" he demanded. "Is he okay?"  
  
"He's working on a case." she told him. "He'll be home in a day or two."  
  
"What's he doing?" Joe persisted.  
  
"He's working on solving a mystery." Laura told him...but she didn't say what the mystery was. She realized that if Joe knew, he would be even more upset.  
  
"Can he get hurt?" Joe wanted to know.  
  
"It's possible." Laura replied truthfully. "But he is very good at what he does, and he knows what he can and can't do." she added. "Dad will be very careful," she promised him. "You don't have to-"  
  
Laura was interrupted by a loud, persistent knocking on the front door. "I'd better go see who that is." she said. "You two stay put." she added, giving Frank a stern look.  
  
She went downstairs and opened the front door, but when she saw who was standing there, her face went white, and she clutched the edge of the door for support. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Jeff." Jim Wood said, entering Fenton's bedroom without knocking.  
  
"Yes, sir?" Fenton inquired, not batting an eye at the intrusion.  
  
"I have some correspondence which needs to be attended to." Wood stated without preamble. "You have free run of my office to attend to my affairs." he continued. "Also, I would like you to make an appointment with-"  
  
"Sir," Billy arrived at the door.  
  
"Yes, what is it?" Wood asked, looking at him.  
  
"You have a visitor, sir," Billy informed him. "Chief Greer."  
  
"I'm on my way," Wood told him. "We will finish this later," he added to Fenton, leaving the room.  
  
Fenton longed to follow him, but he knew doing so would very likely result in his termination, so he remained where he was and finished unpacking. There would be time later to find out what Wood was involved in.  
  
A few minutes later, an obviously agitated Wood returned to Fenton's room. "I'm on my way to Bayport, and I will probably be gone the rest of the day, perhaps even overnight." he informed Fenton, not noticing the wariness which briefly invaded Fenton's eyes before he managed to mask the emotion. "Jonathan Drecker, an associate of mine, is due here in a little over two hours, and has something which belongs to me. I would like you to accept the package and take it to my office."  
  
"As you wish, sir." Fenton agreed, then waited for Wood to continue.  
  
"There is a safe in the floor beneath the carpet under my desk. Lift the carpet from the inside left leg and fold it over. There is a slit on top of the safe. The package should fit through it. Jonathan probably won't stay, but if he chooses to, make him comfortable. If he needs a room for the night, give him the one beside yours and keep an eye on him." Wood ended.  
  
"You don't trust him?" inquired Fenton.  
  
"I trust no one." Wood replied, letting Fenton know by the look in his eyes that even he wasn't above suspicion.  
  
Fenton inclined his head then returned to his task of unpacking. Wood left the room and Fenton could hear him moving down the hall to the stairs.  
  
Fenton waited until he saw Wood climb into the back of his blue Lincoln Continental, and drive away with Billy behind the wheel, before moving from his vantage point beside the dresser near the window. The odds were his room contained hidden microphones, as did the phones throughout the house. He was fairly certain most if not all of the rooms were equipped with video surveillance, although at first glance he could see no sign of one in his own room.  
  
He had to find a way off the estate to a pay phone. He had to alert Ezra to Wood's proposed visit to Bayport. Ezra must find a way to protect Joe. Before Joe had regained consciousness in the hospital's emergency room, the doctor had told Laura and him that Joe had obviously suffered multiple beatings and broken bones. His current condition was only partially due to a recent beating. It would take a long time for him to heal physically, for the scars on his back, arms, and legs were deep. Who knew what the emotional scars were like?  
  
Fenton's expression turned grim as he bent to tie his shoe - which really didn't need tying. He was trying to hide the fear he felt at the thought of Joe falling back into Wood's hands, just in case there was a camera monitoring him at the moment.  
  
Fenton stood, closed the drawer he had been putting his clothes in and shut his suitcase, taking it and setting it down inside the closet. Acting as if he were not in a hurry, he left his room and made his way down to the kitchen.  
  
"May I help you?" inquired a deep baritone voice from the heavyset man near the central island, which consumed a large part of the room.  
  
Fenton took stock of the man, who weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds. He had been introduced to Randy Harmon earlier, during his tour of Wood's home. Greasy brown locks dangled over Harmon's forehead, and his brown eyes bore into Fenton as he neared the island.  
  
"I was looking for a beer." Fenton answered, casually.  
  
"Bottom shelf." the cook responded, gesturing toward the refrigerator and then returning to the task of slicing carrots which Fenton's intrusion had interrupted.  
  
Fenton walked over to the refrigerator and opened it up. "Got any full bodied stuff?" he asked, seeing only light beer there. "I can't drink this light stuff."  
  
"No," was the reply. "You'll have to go to the market and get your own."  
  
"I'll do that." Fenton agreed after a minute. He closed the refrigerator and left the kitchen via the back door.  
  
Twenty minutes later, the phone rang in Chief Collig's office. Ezra grinned as he reached for the phone. He had only been the Chief of Police for a little over a month now, and the thrill of barking his title into the handset had yet to wear off.  
  
"Chief Collig," Ezra answered the phone in a brusque tone, his eyes still sparkling.  
  
"Ezra, we have a problem." Fenton's voice came through the wire. At once, Ezra became the man whom everyone knew him to be...serious and all business.  
  
When the conversation ended, Ezra left his office and went outside. Getting into his squad car, he headed straight for the Hardy residence. Laura answered the door at his insistent knocking.  
  
"What's wrong?" she demanded, seeing the vein in his forehead pulsating, revealing the fact he was distressed. "Fenton?" she asked in a whisper, her face going white as she clasped her hands to her chest.  
  
"Fenton's fine." Ezra quickly assured her. "Wood is on his way to Bayport. Fenton believes he may know Joe is here." 


	7. Chapter 7

"NO! He can't have him!" Laura shouted hysterically.  
  
Immediately, footsteps were heard from upstairs, followed by the sound of a door banging into a wall. Soon, a pair of bare feet were glimpsed on the steps, and then pint-sized Frank was there, taking up a protective stance near his mother.  
  
"What's going on?" he demanded.  
  
"Frank, how would you like to come and stay at my house for a few days?" Ezra asked, getting down on one knee so as to be at eye level with the boy.  
  
"No, thank you." Frank replied politely but firmly. "I'm staying with Mom and my brother. Dad's gone right now, so I'm the man of the house." he added proudly, pointing his thumb at his chest.  
  
"They're invited too." Ezra told him. He stood up and looked at Laura. "We need to leave within fifteen minutes." he said.  
  
"Frank, take Chief Collig upstairs and show him where the luggage is. Then help him pack some clothes for you and Joe." Laura instructed. "Joe has some new things still in sacks on his bed."  
  
"Shouldn't I get Joe?" Collig asked, remembering Joe's cast.  
  
Laura shook her head. "He doesn't trust the police." she reminded him. "It would be better if I got him." She turned and led the way upstairs.  
  
By the time Ezra and Frank entered the boys' bedroom with the suitcases, Laura had told Joe that they were going to spend a few days visiting him, and his wife, Ginger. She was sitting on the lower bunk bed, with Joe in her lap. It was easy to see Joe's apprehension; he kept his arms locked about Laura's neck, and whimpered softly.  
  
He was still whimpering ten minutes later, when Ezra opened the back door of his car for them.  
  
"It's okay, Joe." Frank told him as he climbed into the rear seat after them. "Chief Collig's a friend of Dad's."  
  
Rather than easing Joe's mind, this only seemed to increase his agitation. He began trembling as Ezra shut the door, then went to the front and took his place behind the wheel.  
  
Although seat-belted into his own seat, Joe kept his death-grip on Laura all the way to the Colligs' house. Although Frank, Laura and Ezra all talked to him during the ride, Joe uttered no sounds, other than an occasional soft whimper. Laura suspected that Joe was terrified because he believed he was being returned to his father, but she realized just telling him wouldn't alleviate his fear. He would have to see for himself that not all policemen were like the ones who had returned him home before.  
  
When they arrived at the Colligs' house, Ezra jumped out and opened the car's back door. Frank scampered out, then waited for his mother and Joe. Getting in the car while holding Joe had been easy for Laura; getting out was a different matter entirely.  
  
Joe must have realized this, for when Ezra leaned in to take him from Laura, he released his grip on Laura's neck, and went willingly enough. Ezra emitted a silent sigh of relief as Joe came to him; although it was evident by Joe's heavy breathing and stiff posture that he was still terrified. As soon as Laura got out and stood up, Joe made a dive for her. She caught him, barely maintaining her balance in the process.  
  
Ezra opened the trunk and removed the two suitcases he had placed there before they left the Hardys' residence, then led the way into his house. Laura carried Joe into the living room and set him on the couch.  
  
"Ginger!" Ezra shouted, setting the cases down and closing the front door.  
  
A tall woman with wavy auburn hair and just a smattering of freckles on her face appeared in the doorway to the living room. She smiled in welcome when she saw who her husband had brought home, and her blue eyes sparkled with a warm light.  
  
"Laura!" she sang out, and coming into the room, gave Laura a gentle hug. "Hi, Frank!" she said, ruffling his hair playfully. "And who have we here?" she asked, giving Joe a big, friendly smile.  
  
"This is Joe - soon to be Joe Hardy." Ezra informed her, smiling down at Joe. "Umm - honey, they're going to be staying with us for a few days...." he added a bit hesitantly, realizing that he definitely should have called and warned her of this intrusion.  
  
"Great!" Ginger enthused, without batting an eye. She knew that if Ezra had brought the Hardy family here, it was for a very important reason, and she would find out what was going on once the boys were out of earshot. "You guys look tired." she said to Frank and Joe. "Why don't I show you where you'll be sleeping, and then you can kick back while your mom helps me with dinner?"  
  
"What are we having?" Frank asked. He loved his mother's cooking, but eating at someone else's house was always a treat.  
  
"How does spaghetti sound?" she asked, smiling at him, and he nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"My favorite!" he said.  
  
"I've got to get back." Ezra said. "Will you be all right?" he asked, looking from Laura to Ginger.  
  
"Yes," Laura answered. "Thanks, Ezra."  
  
"Just call if you need anything." he told them. "I'll have someone keep watch on your place tonight." he added to Laura. "If Wood goes near the place, at least we'll know for sure that he thinks you have Joe."  
  
"Thanks." Laura said again, smiling at him gratefully.  
  
"I may be late." Ezra told Ginger, kissing her goodbye.  
  
"Just call..." she requested, kissing him back.  
  
"I will." he promised, and departed.  
  
Frank went over and picked up the suitcase containing his clothes and Joe's; Ginger took the other. She led the way to the guest room with Frank following her, and Laura bringing up the rear, carrying Joe once more.  
  
"I hope you don't mind sharing with the boys," Ginger said, entering the room. "It's the only extra bed we have."  
  
"Not at all." Laura assured her. "I'm just grateful you can put us up."  
  
Ginger waved her hand dismissively as Laura set Joe on the big bed. "We've got a cot we can set up too, so that may help the situation some." She looked at the two boys and smiled. "You two like Nintendo?" she asked. "We have a system in the living room."  
  
"After dinner." Laura interposed. "Frank and Joe, you two get busy on your homework." she instructed them. "If you need help with anything, just shout."  
  
"Can we open the window?" Frank inquired, going over to the window and beginning to do exactly that. "It's hot in here!"  
  
"No!" Laura exclaimed sharply, before she could stop herself. Frank looked at her curiously, but shoved the frame back down. Ginger went over and locked the window.  
  
"I'll turn on the ceiling fan." she told Frank. "It will cool down in no time." She walked to the door and flipped a switch beside it. The fan began to turn, lazily, and almost at once the air began to stir, and a cool breeze could be felt wafting through the room.  
  
"You doing okay, Joe?" Ginger asked then, smiling down at the younger boy. "Would you and Frank like some lemonade while dinner is cooking?"  
  
"Sure!" Frank readily agreed. Joe merely stared at her quizzically, undecided whether or not she could be trusted or liked.  
  
"I'll bring you both some." Ginger said, leaving the room.  
  
"Are we going to go to school tomorrow?" Frank asked, after Ginger had gone.  
  
It amazed Laura sometimes, how perceptive Frank could be. "No," she admitted. She patted the bed beside her, and Frank came and sat down where she indicated. "We'll be staying here until your father returns." she told them, then.  
  
"How long will that be?" Frank asked.  
  
"As long as it takes to make sure that Joe can stay with us for always." she replied honestly.  
  
"I - I really don't have to go back?" Joe asked, uttering his first words since Chief Collig had appeared at the Hardys' house. "Not ever?"  
  
"Not ever." Laura assured him, squeezing his shoulders again. "You are a part of our family now, and no one is ever going to take you away." 


	8. Chapter 8

After calling Ezra Collig and asking him to take Laura and the boys somewhere safe, Fenton Hardy entered the supermarket and purchased a six-pack of Busch. He returned to the Wood estate and went into the house through the kitchen entrance, depositing all but one bottle of beer in the refrigerator.  
  
Giving the cook a curt nod, Fenton left the kitchen carrying his beer, and made his way into Wood's office. Sitting down at the mahogany desk, he pulled the stack of letters towards him. He realized he would have to deal with each letter he opened before proceeding to the next, so he organized the mail into four separate piles.  
  
He designated one stack as 'junk mail;' advertisements and offers for credit cards were put there. A second set consisted of correspondence with company letterheads. A third stack contained actual letters, possibly from friends, but more likely from acquaintances who were interested in some aspect of Wood's business empire. Wood was, after all, a very wealthy man.  
  
The fourth and last set was the one which provoked Fenton's interest the most. These included envelopes which were hand-addressed to Jim Wood, but which did not include return addresses. Intrigued, Fenton began his task with these.  
  
The first letter he opened was from a man named Nick Andopolis. From what Fenton could gather, Andopolis ran a Greek restaurant in New York called Mr. Gyro. In the letter was a list of items which were needed to expand the establishment, within a budget agreed to at a previous time. A website and a list of passwords were included. Fenton logged onto the Internet and tried the URL. A password was required to enter the site, and Fenton typed in the first of the passwords Nick had sent.  
  
Two minutes later he was gazing at the financial records of Mr. Gyro. Fenton did a printout to offer Wood, then read through the profits and expenditures. He studied the budget, and decided that nothing appeared to be useful, at least not so far as his current case was concerned. He logged out, and typed up a reply to Nick approving the expansion plans; printed the letter and saved a copy in the computer for future reference, then clipped the printed document to the financial statement, for Wood's signature.  
  
The next two letters were much the same: routine business correspondence. The fourth, however, caused the investigator's eyes to sparkle with interest. The author of the letter was a man named Albert Sweeney. Fenton had recently read a police profile on this man. He had been arrested on suspicion of homicide, illegal weapons trade, and distribution of controlled substances, including but not limited to, heroin and cocaine. No charges had ever stuck, because either the witnesses changed their minds about testifying, or they disappeared. The two times solid evidence had been gathered, it had mysteriously disappeared, or had been tampered with after it had been sealed and placed in the evidence room, making it null and void. Because of this, Sweeney was assumed to be an upper-level peon in organized criminal activity.  
  
If I could nail this guy, my career as a private investigator would be set! Fenton thought. That thought was immediately followed by a guilty one: This is for Joe! he berated himself. Not me! But still, getting Sweeney would be icing on the cake! the thought persisted.  
  
Fenton read the letter. Apparently, Sweeney and Wood were good friends. Sweeney mentioned coming for a visit about the middle of the week. There was nothing incriminating nor useful in the letter, aside from the mention of the forthcoming visit, so Fenton laid the document aside for Wood's perusal, sure that he would wish to handle this one personally.  
  
He checked his watch; it was nearly time for Wood's visitor to arrive. He turned the monitor off, and stood up. Taking a last, sweeping look around the office, he exited, flipping the light off behind him.  
  
"Looks like it's about done." Ginger said, tossing a strand of spaghetti at the wall and watching it cling there.  
  
"I'll call - oh, no!" Laura said, stopping in mid-sentence.  
  
"What's wrong?" Ginger demanded, removing the pan of boiling spaghetti from the stove.  
  
"I forgot Joe's crutches." Laura answered, frowning.  
  
"We've got an old pair around here somewhere." Ginger told her, with a relieved grin.  
  
"But Joe has to have short crutches," Laura reminded her with a teasing smile. "I don't think Ezra's old ones will do."  
  
"I'll call Ezra and have him swing by the hospital and pick up another pair." Ginger reassured her. "But for right now, run get the boys."  
  
Laura left the kitchen and went down the hall to where the boys were. She slowed her pace as she heard Frank reading aloud. Pausing in the doorway, she smiled as she beheld Frank sitting beside Joe, a book open between them. Joe was looking at the pictures as Frank read the story.  
  
She cleared her throat. "I hate to interrupt, but dinner's ready."  
  
"Oh boy!" Frank shouted, closing the book without marking his place, and jumping up. "I'm starving!"  
  
"Run on in and help Ginger set the table," Laura told Frank. "Wash your hands first. I'll bring Joe."  
  
Frank raced to the bathroom, ran water over his hands, then took off for the kitchen, slinging his wet hands against his shirt to dry them as he went.  
  
Laura carried Joe into the bathroom, and waited while he washed his hands, handing him a towel to dry them with, before lugging him into the kitchen, where Frank was busy laying forks beside each plate.  
  
"Are you going to carry him everywhere?" Frank asked, as Laura settled Joe into a chair, pulling another close so he could prop his leg up.  
  
"I'm going to take care of that right now." Ginger answered for Laura. "Laura, if you'll take up the garlic bread and put the salad on the table, I'll give Ezra a call right now."  
  
Ginger picked up the wall phone by the door, and dialed the police department. "Hi, Sal." she said, when Sergeant Sal Morrow answered the phone in his usual gruff voice. "I need to speak to Ezra."  
  
Ginger told her husband about the crutches, and he promised to pick up a pair before he came home.  
  
"Got to go, babe." he said into the phone. "I love you." he added tenderly, before hanging up.  
  
Ezra had seen two men get off the elevator and enter the outer sanctum, through his open door. He replaced the receiver, and walked through the doorway of his office. "May I help you, gentlemen?" he asked, taking in the classy clothes the men were wearing.  
  
"Yes," said the man with the blond hair and blue eyes. "My name is Jim Wood, and this is my...friend..." Wood hesitated slightly before settling on the word 'friend.' "...William Catherson."  
  
Ezra froze as the introduction was made, but forced himself to relax. He knew Wood was coming to Bayport, but he hadn't expected the man to show up at the precinct!  
  
"I was wondering if I might have a few words with you." Wood continued. "Privately." he added, seeing the curiosity in the group of men present.  
  
Ezra turned sideways and ushered the men into his office. "Pay attention," he hissed at Sal Morrow, passing by the sergeant's desk. Sal flipped on his intercom, but turned the volume down so that only he could hear what transpired behind the chief's closed door.  
  
"Now, what can I do for you?" Ezra asked, taking a seat behind his desk and looking at the men who occupied the two chairs in front of him."  
  
"I own Wood Enterprises." Wood began. "I have need of a private investigator, and an acquaintance mentioned the name of a Fenton Hardy who resides here in Bayport. I was hoping you could tell me something about the man." Wood ended, leaning back and slowly letting his fingers meet, before raising his forefingers to his lips, while he surveyed Ezra thoughtfully.  
  
"I'm afraid I can't tell you much." Ezra replied. "He's been a private investigator here for almost two years now," he said. "Prior to that, he served on the New York City Police force."  
  
"What kind of a man is he?" Wood inquired.  
  
Want to know if he can be bought, hmm? Fat chance! But Ezra's expresssion did not betray his thoughts. "I don't know him all that well," he lied. "but he seems honest enough." he added, with a slight inflection on the words, to give the impression that he, himself, might not be.  
  
Wood's eyes narrowed at this comment. "I see," he said coolly. "How long have you been on the force?" he inquired, giving Ezra a thin smile.  
  
"Ten years next month." Ezra answered, truthfully.  
  
"Ah, you must have a nice home, nice car, the works, by now." Wood commented.  
  
Ezra gave a short laugh. "On a policeman's salary?" he said, laughing again.  
  
"Then why do you stay on the force?" Billy Catherson asked.  
  
"It's what I'm trained for." Ezra prevaricated. The truth was, he couldn't stand to see scum get away with hurting innocent people.  
  
"How would you like to work for me?" Wood asked.  
  
"Doing what?" Ezra demanded, his eyes narrowing at the man. "I already admitted I'm not qualified for any other job."  
  
"Nothing much." Wood replied. "Find out about Fenton Hardy for me. Is he currently involved in a case? Would he be willing to work for me? That kind of thing."  
  
Ezra couldn't help it, he shot Wood a poisonous glare, but the man appeared not to notice.  
  
"In return, I'll put you on my payroll...say, a thousand dollars a week?" Wood continued smoothly.  
  
Ezra remained noncommittal, acting as if he might be interested in the offer, but not making any promises. But inside, his thoughts were whirling. A thousand a week? That's a mighty tempting offer for someone on a policeman's salary, all right. Lots of guys would jump at the chance!  
  
"Think it over," Wood instructed, standing up, as did Catherson. "You can call me at my hotel, tonight or tomorrow," he added, picking up a pen and writing a number on the back of one of Ezra's business cards. "After tomorrow, however, the offer will be revoked."  
  
The two men left the chief's office, nodded to Sgt. Morrow as they walked past, and exited via the elevator.  
  
Sal stood up and entered Ezra's office. "Wow!" he said, seeing Ezra sitting behind his desk, a scowl marring his otherwise handsome features. "What are you going to do about him?"  
  
"I'm working on it," Ezra said, standing up. He handed the card with the phone number on it to the sergeant. "Arrange for a warrant for a tap." he ordered. "I've got something to do; I'll be back later." he added, grabbing his cap from the rack near the door as he left.  
  
Sal resentfully watched Ezra leave. He had been on the force for nearly 40 years, and now he found himself doing errands for the new chief - a man who had only been around for ten years. He sullenly went about his business, but after a half hour or so had passed, he picked up the phone, and dialed the number the Chief had handed him.  
  
"Hello?" Wood answered.  
  
"This is Sergeant Sal Morrow," Sal said, watching the door as he talked, to be sure he wouldn't be overheard. "You can't buy the chief. He's an honest man."  
  
"And why are you telling me this?" Wood asked, in a bored voice.  
  
"I've given my life to this job, and gotten nothing for it." Morrow admitted. "I'll be your inside man, but I want twice what you offered Collig."  
  
"And how do you know I offered him anything?" Wood countered.  
  
"The chief had me listen in on your meeting." Sal informed him. "Here's a freebie," he continued, hooking Wood. "Collig and Fenton Hardy have been best buds since Hardy moved to Bayport two years ago." 


	9. Chapter 9

A sharp, repetitive knock on the front door announced the arrival of a visitor, presumably the Jonathan Drecker that Wood had mentioned.  
  
Since Billy-the-Butler was gone, Fenton opened the door himself, revealing a man of medium height, with black, slicked-back hair and small, beady brown eyes standing on the doorstep. Fenton's first impression was that this man resembled some sort of rodent - and the quickly-observed habitual sniff the man possessed gave credence to his observation. I feel like I'm looking at a rat with a head cold!  
  
"Who are you?" the man demanded, staring suspiciously at Fenton.  
  
"I'm Jeff King, Mr. Wood's personal assistant." Fenton introduced himself. "And you are...?"  
  
"Jon Drecker." Drecker responded, holding out his right hand. Fenton shook it, noting the exceptionally long fingernail on the man's pinky.  
  
"Yes, of course - Mr. Wood has been expecting you." Fenton said, stepping back and opening the door fully. "Won't you come in?"  
  
Drecker entered, and Fenton closed the door. "Mr. Wood had an emergency which required his immediate attention." he explained his employer's absence. "However, I have been instructed to welcome you, and accept the package you have brought."  
  
"Um...there's a slight problem with that." Drecker said, sniffing. Fenton raised his right eyebrow questioningly. "I need to talk with Jim. When can I see him?"  
  
"Mr. Wood should return no later than tomorrow," Fenton told him. "Perhaps you would care to wait? You're welcome to spend the night."  
  
"Uh - sure." Drecker replied, sniffing again.  
  
"I'll show you to your room, so you can freshen up." Fenton said, leading the way up the stairs. "Dinner is at eight." he added, pausing in front of the doorway to the room next to his own. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll inform the cook that you'll be joining us for dinner - and then I need to get back to work."  
  
"Oh, sure." Drecker said with a dismissive nod. He entered the guest room and closed the door behind him.  
  
Fenton headed downstairs to tell the cook that an extra plate would be needed at dinner. He shook his head, wondering what sort of business Jim Wood could have with a hardcore cocaine junkie.  
  
When Fenton returned to Wood's office, he made an inconspicuous search of the room. He found no obvious cameras or microphones, and felt secure enough to look for the unobtrusive, positive that Wood would not have his own office under scrutiny.  
  
His search revealed a switch beneath the left arm of the chair; when activated, it opened a panel on the left wall that had concealed nine video monitors. One screen showed Fenton's room, empty, and the one below it gave a view of the guest room which Drecker occupied. Each monitor spent roughly 30 seconds per room, then switched to a different one before returning to the original. This meant only ten rooms were under surveillance, for one monitor showed the hallways, while three others covered the gate, the carport/garage, front door, rear door, and the basement. Fenton surmised the grounds were left unmonitored because of the four Doberman guard dogs which were released to roam the premises each evening.  
  
Fenton watched Drecker for a bit, but the man just lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, so he decided to use this time to search Wood's office for anything which might prove incriminating. The best place to start, he decided, was with the floor safe under the desk.  
  
Fenton knelt down and pulled the carpet back, as Wood had instructed him. The safe was basic gray steel, with a large flat slit in the top. The package Drecker was supposed to have brought couldn't be any bigger than a manila envelope, or more than an inch thick... Fenton thought. He removed a penlight from his pocket, and getting down on his stomach, tried to peer through the slit; however, the light could not penetrate the steel through the small opening.  
  
Sighing, Fenton laid the penlight down, and looked at the lock on the safe. A combination lock, easy enough to open - if one had a stethoscope, which he didn't. No, he would have to try and guess the combination. What was it Laura said about Wood? he thought, scowling in concentration. Oh yeah...possessive about his late wife. If only he knew something about her....  
  
Fenton got up and strolled around the office, hoping to find something that would help him. He came to a standstill in front of a golden-framed photograph, and stared. A small, beautiful woman gazed back at him with Joe's blue eyes. There was writing at the base of the image.  
  
It's her epitaph! he realized. It gave both her birth date and the date of her death. Below this picture was another frame containing Daisy's and Jim's marriage certificate. Fenton memorized the three dates, then returned to the safe.  
  
Mentally crossing his fingers, he tried the date of their marriage. No good. Next, he tried Daisy's birth date, and gave a silent shout of joy as the lock clicked. Lifting the lid, he aimed his penlight inside the safe.  
  
The safe held five envelopes and one small metal box. Fenton pulled the contents out and sat up. Opening the metal box, he was unsurprised to find it loaded with cash. All hundreds. He closed it, and set it back in the safe.  
  
Opening the first envelope, he found a list of businesses with names beside each. He scanned the list, and found the name Andopolis next to 'Mr. Gyro.' A list of Wood's various enterprises, and the men who run them...Fenton theorized, planning on checking out each of the men and the businesses.  
  
The second envelope contained two separate sheets of paper. The first sheet listed names, addresses, and phone numbers of three men from Charleston, South Carolina. Albert Sweeney was one of these three men. Beneath his name were four other names, with corresponding phone numbers. A percentage was written next to each man's name, with the total equaling fifty percent. At the bottom of each list of names was the name of a business. Fenton bet each of these businesses were dummies, set up for the exclusive purpose of laundering the profits of Wood's illegal dealings. Fenton was beginning to believe Wood was more than just a crook. He was a crime lord.  
  
The second sheet of paper was identical to the first, except that the names were different, and the location was New York City. Jonathan Drecker's name appeared at the top of this list. When Fenton laid the papers down and reached for the third envelope, he was grinning from ear to ear. No wonder Wood is a self-made multi-millionaire! he thought. He's got his hand in most of the criminal proceedings in two of the largest cities on the east coast!  
  
The third envelope held a prospectus for a stock portfolio with the firm Mortimer and Leif, which was located here in Burnsville. Never having heard of the firm, Fenton leafed through the papers. He didn't know a lot about the stock market, but an 80-percent return seemed a bit much for the six-month period listed.  
  
The fourth envelope contained another prospectus, this one more believable. The firm, Reginald Investments, operating out of New York City, showed only a 30-percent increase over a six-month span.  
  
The fifth and final envelope contained a surprise for Fenton: it was the last will and testament of Daisy Wood. As Fenton read it, he frowned, positive that this will had not been executed. He stood up and took the contents of all five envelopes to the fax machine. He would send all of these to a friend and associate of his, Sam Radley.  
  
But Sam wasn't at home, having gone away with Ethel, his wife, on a second honeymoon to celebrate five years of marriage. Sam had given the Hardys a key to his apartment, requesting that they keep an eye on the place, and maybe water the plants. His fax machine would receive the copies, but Sam wasn't there to deal with the information.  
  
Fenton mentally kicked himself. He had recently purchased a fax machine, but kept putting off hooking it up. Once Wood was behind bars, he decided, that fax machine would be connected immediately.  
  
Finishing up, he put the items back in their respective envelopes and returned them to the safe, closing it and covering it back up with the carpet.  
  
He glanced at the monitors. "Blast it!" he snarled. Drecker was awake, and on the prowl. He would have to finish his search later. Time to follow Wood's guest.  
  
Ezra arrived back at his office in less than an hour. "You get the tap on Wood's hotel room?" he asked Sergeant Morrow.  
  
"Yes sir," Morrow answered. "We'll have names and numbers of all communications to and from his room."  
  
"Good job, Sergeant." the chief commended him.  
  
"Did your errand have something to do with Wood's visit?" Morrow inquired, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"No." Ezra responded, going into his office, and leaving a curious Morrow at his desk. It isn't that I don't trust Sal, he thought. I never would have had him monitor the meeting, if that were the case. No... he decided, It's just better if only those directly involved know of Joe's whereabouts for the time being. Besides, he reasoned, if I had told Sal about picking up the crutches, he would have figured out where Joe was, and it might have put him, the Hardys, and Ginger all in danger.  
  
"Remember, in an investigation, the less people who know, the better..." the words of an instructor at the Police Academy flashed through his mind as he sat down at his desk.  
  
Ezra's thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of the intercom on his desk. "Sir, there's an Agent Rathbone on line two." Sal's gruff voice came across.  
  
"Thanks," Collig acknowledged, and picked up the phone. "Collig here."  
  
"Chief Collig," a smooth voice came over the line. "I am Greg Rathbone with Internal Affairs."  
  
Ezra made a face. Like his men, he detested Internal Affairs, but viewed them as a necessary evil. "What may I do for you, Agent Rathbone?"  
  
"I was contacted by a private investigator, Fenton Hardy." Rathbone explained. "He made some serious allegations regarding Chief Barry Greer of Burnsville."  
  
"I'm aware of the nature of those allegations." Collig admitted.  
  
"I'm in Bayport, but it seems Mr. Hardy isn't around." Rathbone stated. "He told me I should contact you if the situation arose."  
  
"Of course," Ezra readily agreed. "But it might be best if we met somewhere in town." he went on, not wanting his men to think he was associating with the enemy.  
  
"My thoughts exactly." Rathbone concurred. "I'll be waiting at Zippy's Burgers."  
  
"I'm on my way." Ezra said, hanging up.  
  
"Leaving again?" Sal asked as Ezra walked out of his office once more, cap on his head.  
  
"I'm patrolling," Ezra quipped with a quick smile, and left.  
  
A few moments later, a phone rang in a hotel room in Bayport. "Hello?" Billy Catherson answered it.  
  
"Go get your boss." Sal ordered.  
  
Billy knocked on the connecting door, and Wood opened it. Billy pointed at the phone. "Morrow." he said tersely.  
  
Wood lifted the receiver. "Hello, Sergeant." he said in a bored voice.  
  
"The Chief is on his way to meet with the IA agent now. At Zippy's Burgers, on Main just off Exit 19."  
  
"Thank you, Sergeant." Wood replied. "You have been most helpful." he added before disconnecting, then swiftly dialed the number of Andrew Vance, a man whom Wood had used on several previous occasions to eliminate 'trouble.'  
  
"Yeah?" came a nasal answer, after the third ring.  
  
"Vance, I have a job for you." Wood said, his eyes hard.  
  
"I'm listening." Vance said.  
  
"Chief Ezra Collig." Wood stated. "He's headed to Zippy's Burgers right now."  
  
"A cop? That's gonna cost ya."  
  
"Three times your normal rate." Wood replied, not wishing to haggle.  
  
"Done." Vance agreed, and hung up. 


	10. Chapter 10

Laura lifted Joe from his chair and followed Ginger and Frank into the living room. She set Joe on the sofa in front of the television, and Frank dropped to the floor next to him.  
  
"How about this one?" Ginger asked, holding out a Nintendo cartridge to Frank.  
  
"Cool!" Frank said, reaching up for it. "I haven't played this one, yet."  
  
Ginger handed Frank the cartridge, and then gave Joe a controller, Frank having grabbed his as he inserted the game in its slot. Joe accepted the controller with a curious expression.  
  
"Haven't you played Nintendo before?" Ginger asked him gently.  
  
Joe shook his head.  
  
"I'll teach you!" Frank piped up, and started showing Joe what each of the buttons on the controller was for.  
  
Seeing the two boys were engrossed for the moment, Ginger and Laura retreated to the kitchen. Ginger turned on the water, and squirted some dish detergent into the sink, humming softly.  
  
"You're in a great mood." Laura observed, stacking the empty plates and bringing them to the sink. "Considering that you had unexpected company dumped on you like this."  
  
"Yeah!" Ginger agreed. "Oh, Laura!" she continued, spinning around, her face animated. "I've got to tell someone before I burst!"  
  
"What is it?" Laura demanded, her eyes filling with concern. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong!" Ginger shouted. "Everything's perfect! I'm going to have a baby!" she announced, her voice going soft with the awe she still felt at the revelation.  
  
"A baby! Oh Ginger, that's fantastic!" Laura squealed, hugging the tall redhead. "When are you due? How long have you known? Why didn't Ezra mention it?"  
  
"Seven and a half months - since this morning...and...I haven't told him yet." Ginger answered the questions in rapid succession.  
  
"You were going to tell him tonight." Laura realized, stricken. "I'm so sorry we ruined it for you!"  
  
"You did nothing of the sort." Ginger denied, frowning. "I wasn't going to tell him tonight, anyway." she continued. "Ezra's got some time off in three more days; I was going to tell him then."  
  
Laura smiled, but she was still worried. "Maybe the boys and I should go somewhere else..." she began, her voice becoming hesitant as she watched Ginger's eyes ignite. "I don't want anything to happen-"  
  
"Stop right there!" Ginger ordered fiercely. "No one knows you're here except Ezra and Fenton, and they're not going to tell anyone." she pointed out. "Besides, how could Ezra and I look forward to a wonderful future with our child, knowing we hadn't done everything we could for another child who needed our help?" she reasoned.  
  
Laura hugged her gratefully. "Thank you." she said. "And don't worry," she added, her blue eyes twinkling. "I won't mention the baby to a soul!"  
  
There was an eruption of laughter from the living room, and the two women went to see what was going on.  
  
Frank was strutting around in front of the television, the game paused in the background, acting like the character on the screen. He wobbled for a few feet, then froze, his eyes going wide. He made a gurgling sound, then started sinking toward the floor. "Glub...glub...glub...."  
  
Joe broke into a fit of giggles, the sound warming the hearts of the two female observers.  
  
"Do it again!" Joe pleaded. Frank, highly pleased to have an appreciative audience, obligingly did as requested.  
  
Fenton sighed as he surreptitiously watched Jonathan Drecker open yet another door. Each door the man had opened thus far had been to an unoccupied room, and this room was no exception. Fenton stayed where he was, and waited the few seconds it would take for the snoop to realize he would find nothing of interest here.  
  
Here he comes again! thought Fenton, as Drecker emerged from the room and closed the door. He proceeded down the hall, and stopped in front of the double doors leading into the office. Drecker looked around, and spotting no one, gently turned the knob on one of the doors and peered through the crack. Finding the room empty, he looked about once more, then stealthily slipped inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
Fenton hurried over to the doors, and knelt down, to be at eye level with the keyhole. He could see Drecker rifling through the drawers of the desk. He was searching for something specific, Fenton realized, watching Drecker shove items aside without a thought.  
  
He doesn't seem to care if Wood discovers his search, Fenton thought, his eyebrows drawing together. He must be planning on leaving before Wood returns, whether or not he finds what he's looking for...so maybe I'd better find out what he's after, before he does find it! he decided. Standing erect, Fenton took a deep, calming breath before opening the door and stepping through.  
  
Three steps into the room, he paused. "What are you doing here, Mr. Drecker?" he asked, feigning surprise.  
  
Drecker jumped and sniffled. "I was - uh - looking for some paper and an envelope." he offered, lamely.  
  
"No problem!" Fenton said cheerfully, going around to the back of the desk where Drecker stood. Fenton opened a drawer and removed some paper, a pen, an envelope, and even a stamp. "Here you go." he said with a smile. "If there's anything else you require, just let me know." he said, taking Drecker's elbow and leading him towards the door.  
  
"No...no, this should be fine." Drecker said, starting down the hall.  
  
"Sir - " Fenton said, to get the man's attention. Drecker stopped and pivoted toward him. "Allow me to escort you to your room." Fenton continued. "It's easy to get turned around, in such a large house." He pulled the office doors shut behind him, and held out his hand, indicating that Drecker should precede him, in the opposite direction to the one Drecker had been heading.  
  
"Thank you," Drecker replied, sniffing. "You're most kind." he added, his frustration at being balked in his search seeping into his voice.  
  
After seeing Drecker safely into his room, Fenton returned to the office, locking the doors from the inside so that he wouldn't be surprised as Drecker had been.  
  
Time to look this place over, Fenton decided. "But first, the desk." he said aloud, going over and sitting down. Once in the chair, he flipped the switch beneath the left arm; the paneling slid back, and the monitors were revealed. He spotted Drecker pacing back and forth in his room, scowling.  
  
Fenton began going through the drawers. By the time he had searched the last one, he had given up hope of finding out what Drecker had been seeking. He moved things around, looking for anything in the realm of possibility, but the only item he came across that didn't seem to belong was a Rubik's Cube, which, he assumed, Wood must use to relieve stress. He tossed the toy back into the drawer and shut it with an exasperated bang.  
  
Fenton checked the monitors again. Drecker had resigned himself to his room, much to Fenton's relief, and the cook - What was his name? Ah yes, Randy Harmon - was seen to be tossing something into the trash near the back door.  
  
Fenton decided now was a good time to check out the rest of the office. He started with the beige metal filing cabinet nestled in the corner, near the long table, which held the fax machine and assorted bottles of spirits. He grinned sardonically as he glanced at the bourbon, gin, vodka, and other alcoholic beverages and mixers which occupied most of the space. Wood must do a lot of socializing in here - either that, or he's an alcoholic!  
  
The file cabinet was locked, but Fenton made short work of it, and began scanning the files within. The files consisted mainly of financial statements and various contracts associated with those businesses. Fenton finally gave up and relocked the cabinet, having come to the conclusion that everything in it, and possibly the office that was easily accessible, was legit.  
  
He returned to the desk, prepared to tackle the correspondence once again, but a glance at the monitors showed him that Drecker was on the move again. Fenton groaned. If only he was supposed to know about the security monitors, he could...Wait! A slow smile spread across Fenton's face. I have a legitimate reason to be in here...that switch is easy to find. I could have found it by accident, just by sitting down and putting my hands on the chair arms. Shaking his head and laughing to himself, Fenton picked up where he had left off with the correspondence, keeping an eye on the monitors for Drecker's movements.  
  
Eventually, Fenton finished with the stack of letters which had looked most promising. Drecker still hadn't made any progress in his exploration of the rooms, so Fenton set to work on the 'junk' mail, glancing at each and then inserting the papers into the shredder. He glanced at his watch as he dropped the last of the junk mail into the shredder. Almost time for dinner. Drecker must have realized the same thing, for he was returning to his room with alarming speed.  
  
Fenton returned to his room to freshen up, then stopped outside Drecker's door when he was ready. Drecker opened the door quickly, and the two made their way down to dinner.  
  
Ezra Collig arrived at Zippy's Burgers and parked in the police zone marked along the curb. He went inside, and spotted the IA agent almost at once. There was just something about Internal Affairs men that made them stand out from the rest of the crowd, and Agent Greg Rathbone was no exception. A thin man of average height, he had a pointy nose, which curved up just a bit, and thin black hair combed over his head in an effort to hide the fact that he was going bald.  
  
"Agent Rathbone?" Collig asked, going over to the table where the man was seated.  
  
The agent nodded and motioned for Ezra to take a seat. "What do you know about Chief Barry Greer?" Rathbone demanded without preamble, staring into Ezra's eyes.  
  
"I have heard he turns a blind eye to a certain person's activities." Collig admitted, not naming names.  
  
"Our office has received a number of complaints about the good chief." Rathbone stated. "The most recent included allowing two boys to drag race, and one lodged by a man who was pulled over for speeding. He asserted that Chief Greer offered to forego the ticket, thereby letting him off the hook with the insurance company, if the man contributed to Greer's favorite charity."  
  
"The man could have been trying to get out of paying the fine." Collig felt obliged to point out.  
  
"Yes...but the man admitted he had been speeding. He was upset at the wrongdoing of an official who is supposed to be looked up to." Rathbone replied. "The man who lodged the complaint was Father Mathews from the St. Joseph's parish.  
  
"Could Jim Wood have Greer on his payroll?" Collig asked, wanting to get to the subject he was most concerned with.  
  
"Jim Wood?" Rathbone echoed incredulously. "You do realize, don't you, that Jim Wood is a prominent figure in Burnsville? He's one of the wealthiest men in the state, for that matter." Rathbone added. "He donates to countless charities, and he funded a new wing to the Burnsville Memorial Hospital in honor of his late wife."  
  
"Too bad charity doesn't begin at home." Ezra mumbled, too low to be understood by the agent.  
  
"Come again?" Rathbone requested, looking at Collig thoughtfully.  
  
Ezra related the story of Wood's visit and 'employment offer.' "I had Sergeant Morrow listen to the meeting, in case a witness should be needed." he concluded.  
  
"Jim Wood," Rathbone said, shaking his head. "I never would have believed it." Collig remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "I'll start an investigation of Wood," Rathbone said, finally. "If he has bought Greer, and tried to buy you, then he must have something up his sleeve."  
  
"He does." Ezra concurred. "That's why Fenton has already started investigating him."  
  
"You know, Fenton Hardy is going to go far." Rathbone observed. "He's managed to do a lot in the past couple of years."  
  
"That he has," Ezra agreed. "And he was a great cop before that."  
  
"He was a cop? I didn't know that!" Rathbone was obviously surprised.  
  
"He was with the NYPD." was Ezra's reply. "He resigned after his last promotion. He said he felt he could accomplish more in the private sector."  
  
"Very commendable," Rathbone commented, impressed. He looked down at his watch. "I'm afraid I've taken up too much of your time." he said, smiling. "I'll be in touch."  
  
Collig bade the man goodbye and headed out to his squad car. He opened the door and was about to get in when he noticed an elderly man across the street trying to catch his attention.  
  
"Officer! Officer!" The man shouted, motioning violently for Ezra to cross the street to him. Sighing, Ezra waited for the traffic to slow down, and then started across the street, slamming the car door behind him.  
  
The shutting door triggered an explosion in the car, and it burst into flames! Ezra was propelled forward to land at the elderly man's feet, facedown and unmoving. 


	11. Chapter 11

Internal Affairs Agent Rathbone dashed out of Zippy's Burgers, alerted by the ominous sound of the explosion. He saw the squad car in flames, and his breath quickened, fearing that Collig might have been in it, but as he neared the inferno, he saw Ezra's unconscious form lying sprawled on the opposite side of the street. Traffic had come to a standstill, and a small crowd was beginning to gather around the prone figure of the police chief.  
  
Rathbone made his way through the passers-by, and kneeling beside Ezra, checked his vitals. Heaving a sigh of relief, he activated his two-way radio, and called in for an ambulance and police assist. Ending his call, he looked up as a quavering male voice nearby attracted his attention.  
  
An elderly man was hovering near Rathbone's shoulder, wringing his hand nervously. "Oh dear...oh dear, oh dear..." the man muttered, continuing the motions.  
  
"Take it easy." Rathbone eased himself to his feet. "It'll be okay, Mr....Mr....?"  
  
"Orwitz." the distraught man replied. "Sam Orwitz."  
  
"Mr. Orwitz, can you tell me what happened here?" Rathbone inquired.  
  
"I was sitting there." the old man said, pointing to the bench a few feet behind them with a shaky forefinger. "I was waiting for my bus. And I saw this man come along. He stopped by the police car, and pretended to tie his shoe, but he didn't really do that. I saw him slip something from under his jacket and hook it under the driver's door. Then he took something from his pocket, and did something with that and the car - and then he took off, as fast as he could! When I saw the officer come out of Zippy's and start to get in the car, I tried to get his attention." he continued. "He saw me, and started coming over, but he slammed the car door shut...and that happened!" he concluded, his worried hazel eyes traveling from Collig's blazing car to Rathbone's attentive face.  
  
Sirens heralded the arrival of the fire department, closely followed by an ambulance and a police cruiser. The fire crew set to work spraying water on the burning car; the paramedics attended to Ezra Collig, and Agent Rathbone found himself on the receiving end of police questioning.  
  
"Who are you?" demanded Officer Stanhope, a twenty-something man with dark, wavy hair, and brown eyes. He had spotted Rathbone questioning the elderly man, who seemed to be quite upset, and immediately challenged him. Officer Stanhope was anxious to move up the ladder at police headquarters, and was quick to seize an opportunity when it presented itself.  
  
Rathbone identified himself, secretly amused at Stanhope's barely-concealed reaction of dismay at the information.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Stanhope questioned, looking curiously at the IA agent.  
  
"I was having dinner at Zippy's." Rathbone replied truthfully. "I heard an explosion, and came out to see what was going on. This gentleman-" indicating the elderly man, "-Mr. Orwitz, saw someone suspicious near Chief Collig's car. You'll probably want to get his statement." he added, tactfully retreating from Stanhope's vicinity.  
  
Mr. Orwitz repeated what he had told Rathbone, to Officer Stanhope.  
  
"Can you give me a description of the man?" Stanhope asked him, although without much optimism. People usually couldn't, he'd found. But Orwitz surprised him.  
  
"He was wearing a dingy blue sweat jacket, and faded blue jeans." the old man reported. "He had on black shoes - sneakers, I think. I couldn't see his face real well, but he had curly brown hair, real tight curls, like his hair was very dry."  
  
"Did you notice anything unusual about the way he walked? Did he get into a vehicle when he left?" Stanhope queried, jotting down notes in the little notebook he carried.  
  
"Sir, Chief Collig's still unconscious." Fair-haired Officer Danwig broke in at that moment. "He's being taken to Bayport Memorial."  
  
"Thanks, Ryan. Alert Sergeant Morrow, will you?" Stanhope requested. "Let him know about the Chief. He's the one who should tell Mrs. Collig."  
  
About 40 minutes later, there was a knock on the Collig's front door. When Ginger opened it and saw Sergeant Morrow standing there, she came out on the front porch, not inviting him inside the house.  
  
"Why hello, Sal - what are you doing here?" she asked.  
  
"Ginger, honey, I've got some bad news-" Morrow began, and quickly continued speaking as Ginger gasped in shock and horrified anticipation. "-Ezra's alive, but he's been hurt. He's been taken to Bayport Memorial."  
  
"What happened?" she demanded, gripping Morrow's arm tightly, her face going pale.  
  
Before he could reply, a loud whoop resounded from the house. Morrow's eyes narrowed. "What was that?" he asked sharply.  
  
"The...the television." Ginger lied, knowing full well it had been Frank. "Sal, tell me what happened to Ezra!" she repeated.  
  
"Someone planted a bomb in his car." Sal told her. Ginger's breath became rapid with anxiety, and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, afraid she was going to hyperventilate. "I'll turn off your lights and the TV and drive you to the hospital." he said.  
  
"No - no, I'd rather take my car." she said hastily. "But I'll call you - I'll let you know how he's doing after I see him." she promised. "Are you going back to the station?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Sal answered. "I'm on duty till one."  
  
"Thank you for coming to tell me, Sal." Ginger was retreating into the house as she spoke. She shut the front door, leaving the sergeant standing on the porch.  
  
As he made his way off the porch, Morrow glanced through the front window, into the living room. He could see two small boys sitting on the sofa, apparently engrossed in a video game. He knew immediately who they were, and he also knew who would want this information.  
  
He knew, too, that if he played his cards right, he wouldn't have to wait two years to get a couple of hundred thousand dollars from Jim Wood.  
  
Fenton Hardy and his guest, Jonathan Drecker, were nearly in the dining room when a knock sounded on the front door.  
  
Everyone knocks here, Fenton observed to himself. Maybe the doorbell is broken.... "It seems we have another guest." he said aloud, and excused himself to answer the door.  
  
"Where's Billy?" demanded the man on the other side, when Fenton opened the door.  
  
"Billy accompanied Mr. Wood on some business out of town." Fenton replied courteously. He had recognized the man at once - Albert Sweeney. He's early for a reason! raced through his mind. "And you are...?"  
  
"I'm Al Sweeney." the man growled. "Wood's expecting me. And who are you?" he demanded in return.  
  
"My name is Jeff King, and I'm Mr. Wood's new personal assistant." Fenton introduced himself. He looked at the other man, letting curiosity show on his face. "Mr. Sweeney, is it? Your letter said you weren't expected until later this week."  
  
"Change of plans." Sweeney huffed irritably.  
  
"As I said, Mr. Wood isn't at home, and isn't expected to return until tomorrow, but if you would care to have dinner, and perhaps spend the night, you could see him then." Fenton suggested.  
  
"Sounds like a plan." Sweeney agreed at once, looking a bit more affable at the invitation.  
  
"We were just on our way in to dinner." Fenton informed him then. "Perhaps you would like to wash up in the downstairs lavatory, and I'll show you to your room after dinner."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Sweeney assented ungraciously. "I know where the john is - I'll be in to dinner in a few minutes." He strode off down the hall.  
  
"Pleasant sort, that." Drecker commented sarcastically, with a sniff.  
  
Fenton declined to respond in kind, although he fully agreed. He went into the kitchen to inform the cook of the last-minute dinner guest. Harmon accepted the news without fuss, and it struck Fenton that this sort of thing was a commonplace occurrence in the Wood household.  
  
By the time he returned to the dining room, Sweeney and Drecker had seated themselves, each taking a seat at one end of the table. Fenton took his place at one side, and the three sat in silence as Harmon entered the room and began serving. It was evident that Drecker and Sweeney were acquainted with each other, but apparently not the best of friends.  
  
The men merely made small talk as the salad course was served and consumed, and Fenton was beginning to despair of learning anything useful from either Sweeney or Drecker. However, once the main course made its appearance, the two appeared to relax, and their conversation became more unguarded, discussing business matters of which Fenton knew nothing.  
  
"Did you deliver the package?" Sweeney asked Drecker.  
  
Drecker fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. "No," he mumbled, sniffing. "I lost it."  
  
"You lost-" Sweeney broke off in mid-sentence, rage and disbelief mingling on his face.  
  
Fenton eyed him, idly wondering what his blood pressure had risen to. "More likely, someone stole it." he commented sagely, inside wondering what in heaven's name they were talking about.  
  
"Who?" Sweeney demanded, his angry gaze shifting to Fenton.  
  
"Who knew he had it?" Fenton countered, raising his shoulders to indicate he had no idea.  
  
"Me, Wood, Al, you, Roberts, and...Milhouse!" Drecker shouted the last name, jumping to his feet. "That dirty rat!"  
  
"Milhouse?" Sweeney inquired. "Who is he?"  
  
"Milhouse is Roberts' new partner." Drecker replied, still fuming. "I knew he was up to no good when I found him sniffing around Roberts' office!"  
  
Fenton looked down at his plate to hide the amusement in his eyes. Drecker was a fine one to talk!  
  
"Calm down." Sweeney ordered. "This Milhouse may have obtained the list of potential buyers, but he doesn't have the rock." he said smoothly. "We'll just have to find a market elsewhere for the thing."  
  
"Where is the rock?" Drecker asked Sweeney. "You got it?"  
  
Fenton noticed that Drecker had previously avoided looking into Sweeney's eyes when he addressed him; but now, when he mentioned 'the rock' - a diamond, perhaps? - even though his voice was casual and nonchalant, his posture was that of a lion preparing to pounce, and his eyes slid up to meet Sweeney's as he waited for the reply.  
  
"Wood has it." Sweeney said. "Right?" he asked, looking at Fenton.  
  
"I couldn't say." Fenton replied calmly, picking up a bite of chicken pie with his fork His manner left the men believing that he knew exactly where 'the rock' was, but that he wasn't going to tell them. They said no more about it, and devoted their attention to the excellent meal, to Fenton's relief. He had no notion where a diamond might be, in this house!  
  
After dinner, Fenton and his two guests adjourned to the living room for drinks and conversation while the cook cleared the table and took care of the dishes. Sweeney settled himself in the large, burgundy leather recliner and put his feet up, but Drecker crossed to the far side of the room, where another bar was located. Fenton followed him, attempting to play host.  
  
"Allow me." Drecker insisted, reaching for bottles with the ease of long practice. Fenton inclined his head politely, and stepped back, allowing Drecker to begin mixing martinis. Although he pretended to have his attention elsewhere, Fenton kept a wary eye on Drecker, and saw him surreptitiously drop something into two of the glasses.  
  
When the little man brought the drinks over on a tray, he handed Fenton and Sweeney the two nearest the edge, and set his own on the coffee table, then seated himself.  
  
Just as Drecker reached for his glass to take a sip, Fenton leaped to his feet. "What's that?" he cried, looking at the window.  
  
"What? Where?" Sweeney and Drecker both jumped up and rushed to look out the window. While their backs were turned, Fenton hastily switched glasses with Drecker.  
  
"I thought I saw someone outside." Fenton said, shaking his head. "I guess I was mistaken - the dogs are out, after all."  
  
"Oh boy, are you!" Sweeney agreed, laughing at him. "Those dogs of Wood's are vicious. They don't even like him!"  
  
The three men settled down and sipped their drinks, chatting genially once more. Sweeney, who drank faster than Drecker, conked out first, but Drecker was only a few moments behind.  
  
Fenton checked to make sure both men were merely sleeping, then prepared to leave. He had to make a call. Considering how late it was, he was fairly certain that Wood and Billy would not return that night, and he assumed the drug Drecker used would keep them unconscious until the next morning.  
  
He headed for the kitchen, now tidy and quiet. Harmon had finished the dishes, and was nowhere to be seen. Sighing with relief, Fenton stepped to the back door. He had parked as close to the door as he could, and left the car unlocked. He was sure he could outrun the dogs if they weren't too close to his exit.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he opened the kitchen door and sprinted for the car as fast as he could go.  
  
Fenton slammed the car door shut just as the first Doberman leaped up at his window with fangs bared. He had barely made it!  
  
He started the motor and backed slowly out of the drive, careful not to hit either of the dogs. When he reached the gate, he used the device Wood had given him to open it automatically. He pulled onto the public road and closed the gate; the dogs, well trained, stayed within.  
  
"Wood?" Sergeant Morrow's voice came over the wire. "Are you the one who got Collig out of the picture?"  
  
"Why Sergeant Morrow, I'm surprised at you!" Wood's voice was smooth. "I would never harm a man in uniform." he continued, not admitting he had arranged for someone else to do the job.  
  
"Exactly what are you looking for, in Bayport?" Morrow demanded. He knew Wood wanted Fenton Hardy, but his interest had been piqued by the small boy he had seen through the Collig's front window. The boy who resembled Jim Wood.  
  
"My son has run away from home." Wood replied truthfully. "I am trying to find him."  
  
"Does he look like you?" Morrow asked.  
  
"He does," Wood answered, his eyes narrowing as he heard the cunning in Morrow's voice. "Have you seen him?"  
  
"Meet me in the town park near the bridge in two hours." Morrow countered. "And bring two hundred thousand dollars. I'll get your son to you." he promised.  
  
"I will get him." Wood said. "You just tell me where he is."  
  
"Not until I get the money." Morrow refused.  
  
"My, my, but you are a greedy individual, aren't you?" Wood observed, amusement in his voice. "How did you ever stay a police officer so long?"  
  
"Look, do you want your son or not?" Morrow demanded. "If Hardy has him, you won't be getting him back, except through me."  
  
"Very well." Wood acquiesced. "But this ends our association." he added.  
  
"Agreed." Morrow replied before hanging up.  
  
Two hours later, Morrow was waiting impatiently at the park for Wood to show up. When he finally did...."You got my money?" Morrow demanded gruffly.  
  
Wood silently handed Morrow the briefcase he had carried onto the bridge. Morrow opened it, and his eyes gleamed at the sight of the contents. "Six years of pay in one night, and no taxes!" he gloated, closing the briefcase.  
  
"Now, where is my son?" Wood asked.  
  
"Sure you don't want me to get him for you?" Morrow offered. "You paid enough."  
  
"Quite sure." Wood assured him. "Location, please?"  
  
"Laura Hardy and her son are at Collig's house with your son. Collig's wife is at the hospital with the chief." Morrow informed him.  
  
"Collig's still alive?" Wood snapped incredulously. "He was supposed to be killed!"  
  
"What do you mean?" Morrow demanded, his gaze narrowing suspiciously at Wood. "You said you had nothing to do with it."  
  
"Actually, I said I would never harm a man in uniform." Wood corrected him. "That doesn't mean I wouldn't hire someone else to do it."  
  
"That's murder!" Morrow cried. "I had no idea you were going to go that far!"  
  
"Now you know." Wood turned his back on the police officer just as Billy whipped a revolver from the holster concealed beneath his blazer. Morrow never had a chance to move, before bullets ripped through his body.  
  
"Get his gun - and don't forget the briefcase." Wood ordered, without turning around. He walked toward the park's exit as Billy did as instructed. 


	12. Chapter 12

Ginger Collig watched pensively as her husband got dressed. The doctor had wanted to keep Ezra overnight, but he had insisted he was fine, and needed to get back to headquarters. She was a little worried about him - but only a little. Ezra was tough. Besides, she was too happy to be very worried.  
  
Ezra sat down on the bed to pull on his socks, and caught Ginger staring at him with a silly grin on her face. "You're in a mighty good mood, for someone who got hauled down to the hospital and had to wait around for ages." he commented, his expression curious.  
  
"Oh honey, I wanted to wait and tell you over a romantic dinner...but I'm just too excited!" Ginger gushed, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms about Ezra's neck.  
  
"What is it?" he demanded, completely at a loss to explain his wife's erratic behavior.  
  
Ginger pulled back and gazed tenderly into his eyes. "You're going to be a daddy, darling - I'm going to have a baby!"  
  
Ezra's eyes went wide, then he leaped to his feet, one sock on and one still lying on the bed. He grabbed Ginger tightly in his arms and spun her around. "YAHOO!" he shouted, his face one enormous grin. Ginger clung to him, laughing in delight.  
  
A nurse rushed in, alerted by the commotion. "What's wrong?" she demanded.  
  
"Nothing." Ezra assured her. "Things couldn't be more right!" he added, bending his head to kiss his wife.  
  
Fenton had decided to check out the offices of Mortimer and Leif; the firm was located in Burnsville, not too far from the county line. Upon his arrival at the deserted, two-story building, Fenton parked his car in back, where it couldn't be seen from the road.  
  
He expertly picked the lock on the back door and crept inside, pulling out his penlight and training it on the floor to avoid a glare in the window, not that he expected anyone to be out this way at this time of night. The building was off the highway by a good three hundred yards, but he wasn't going to take any chances!  
  
The first floor consisted of two separate offices. The first held nothing more than a desk, a telephone, and a couple of chairs. The second held the requisite desk and chair...and three filing cabinets. A lamp and a calendar - unused, so far as Fenton could see - and a phone - sat on the otherwise-vacant desk.  
  
Fenton headed for the file cabinets. The first one he reached was locked, but work with the lock picks soon had the top drawer open. To his intense disappointment, the drawer was empty. So was the second...and likewise the third and fourth.  
  
He unlocked the second file cabinet and found more of the same. Shaking his head, he moved to the third cabinet and tried again. Three drawers were empty; the fourth held two file folders.  
  
Fenton pulled the folders out and took them over to the desk. He sat down and began to scan the contents of the folders, documents, which appeared to be listings of company stocks which Mortimer and Leif dealt with. Fenton recognized part of the businesses listed as those belonging to Jim Wood.  
  
Why would Wood have stock options on his own businesses? He remembered from dealing with Wood's correspondence earlier, that Wood's businesses were not obtainable as stock; each business was owned free and clear, by Wood himself.  
  
"Hmmm...tax evasion?" Fenton murmured to himself, closing the files - proof of money laundering! - and putting them back into the file drawer. He was just making sure everything was locked back up when he heard the front entrance open, and footsteps enter the building!  
  
Fenton doused his penlight and stood behind the door, listening to see if the footsteps drew nearer or receded. Worse luck, they were coming closer! On tiptoe, Fenton rushed over to the desk and crawled into the kneehole, and not a moment too soon! The office door opened, and Police Chief Greer poked his head in, flipped on the light, and looked around. Fenton held his breath, silently willing the man to go away...go away! After a moment, seeing no one, the chief exited the room and walked across the hall, where he repeated his actions, before heading upstairs to check the rooms above.  
  
Fenton didn't wait around. He left the office soundlessly, heading back the way he had come, carefully relocking the back door behind him. Once outside, he started his car, keeping the lights off. He pulled out of the lot and drove back to the main highway before turning them on.  
  
When Fenton arrived in Bayport, he drove straight to Sam Radley's place, and once inside, hurried to the fax machine. He then placed a call to the FBI, and asked to speak with Agent Mitch Dalrymple, a man with whom he had worked before. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping the agent would be there. In less than two minutes, Dalrymple's voice came over the line, and Fenton breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
Fenton quickly filled the FBI man in on the details of his case, and asked if he knew of someone named Milhouse who worked for another someone called Roberts. Dalrymple informed him that Milhouse was, in fact, one of the FBI's agents. He had been attempting to track down the whereabouts of an allegedly cursed diamond which had been stolen from a London museum, and smuggled into the United States.  
  
"I'm pretty sure I know who has it." Fenton informed the agent.  
  
"Who?" Dalrymple demanded. "We'll get a search warrant."  
  
"No, Mitch, not yet!" Fenton begged. "Albert Sweeney and Jonathan Drecker are both guests at the house now," he explained. "But the owner - the man who actually has the diamond - isn't there right now. If we wait until he is, perhaps I can find out where he has hidden it."  
  
"Sweeney?" Dalrymple gave a low whistle. "What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him!" he added.  
  
"There's more." Fenton said. "My suspect is very wealthy - and he has the local law in his pocket. But I think I've latched onto something that might shut him down for good!" he went on, and proceeded to inform Mitch Dalrymple of the brokerage firm, the sham office, and his suspicions about the dubious 'relationship' with 'Uncle Sam' and the two lists he had found in Wood's safe.  
  
"Can you get me those lists you mentioned?" Dalrymple requested.  
  
"I can fax them to you right now." Fenton promised.  
  
"Good." Dalrymple approved. "I'll get to work checking out the information. Be careful, Fenton!" he warned, before thanking the detective and hanging up.  
  
Back at Ezra and Ginger's house, Laura was putting Frank and Joe to bed for the night.  
  
"Is Chief Collig going to be all right?" Frank asked his mother, looking up at her from his pillow.  
  
"He's going to be fine." Laura assured him. Ginger had called the hospital before leaving, to find out exactly how Ezra was doing, and had been assured that he had regained consciousness and was adamantly refusing to stay overnight for observation.  
  
Laura kissed both boys goodnight and told them to go straight to sleep, then turned off the light and went into the living room to await Ginger's return.  
  
"I'm glad he's going to be okay," Frank whispered. "I like Chief Collig."  
  
Joe sniffled, and Frank turned his head to look at him. "What's wrong?"  
  
"It's my fault he got hurt." Joe whispered.  
  
"Nah." Frank scooted closer to Joe, put out an arm and pulled him onto it. "Just being a cop is dangerous." he told Joe. "Dad said that sometimes getting hurt just goes with the job."  
  
"Was Dad ever hurt?" Joe asked, feeling somewhat comforted by Frank's nearness.  
  
"A couple of times." Frank admitted. "I remember going to see him in the hospital, after he got shot one time. I thought he was going to die, but Mom said he was going to be okay, he just needed a lot of rest."  
  
Joe went silent, and soon Frank knew he had fallen asleep. Still cuddling his new brother close, Frank shut his eyes, and it wasn't long before he had joined Joe in slumber.  
  
Laura was sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book she'd found on an end table. She heard a sound from the kitchen, and assumed it was Ginger, returning from the hospital. She put down the book and went to meet her.  
  
As Laura stepped through the kitchen door, someone seized her and placed something wet over her face. She struggled frantically, thoughts of the two boys lying oblivious in the bedroom down the hall flitting through her mind, but all too soon she succumbed to the heady smell, and slumped forward in the arms of her assailant. The attacker scooped her up and carried her into the living room, where she was placed on the couch, looking for all the world as if she had just fallen asleep.  
  
The big man who had carried her stood upright, readjusting the ski mask he wore before returning to his companion, a man dressed in a black sweat suit and an identical ski mask, who waited at the entrance to the living room.  
  
The two men crept down the hallway in search of their prey. Stopping in the open doorway of one room, they found it. Lying on a bed, his head resting on the shoulder of a dark-haired boy, lay Jeffrey Wood.  
  
The big man started for the bed, but the other put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "No, Billy," Jim Wood murmured. "He's mine. I'll take him." 


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you sure you won't come home?" Ginger Collig begged her husband. "You should be resting, Ezra, you know you should!"  
  
"I'll rest later." he promised. "Relax, babe." Ezra put an arm about her shoulders and hugged Ginger as she walked with him out the exit doors and toward the hospital parking lot. "I'm not going to do anything strenuous tonight," he assured her. "I just need to go over some things with Sal, that's all."  
  
"All right." she said in defeat. She'd known it wasn't much use, but at least she'd tried. "I'll drop you at the station. How are you going to get home, later?"  
  
"I'll requisition a new car-" Ezra told her. "-oh, wait! Joe's crutches went up with my car!" he realized.  
  
"Go ahead and get in the car, and I'll go back in and get some." Ginger told him. He looked like he was going to argue, so she gave him a gentle push and ordered "Scoot!" before turning around and heading back into the hospital.  
  
After Fenton finished sending the information to the FBI, he dutifully watered the Radleys' plants, and locked the door behind him as he left. He wanted to stop by the police station and talk with Ezra, but knew he didn't dare: he was still in disguise as "Jeff King," and doing so would blow his cover completely.  
  
Still, he wanted to check on Laura and the boys, if only by phone. He stopped at the first gas station he came to, as he was leaving Bayport, silently cursing himself for not phoning from the Radleys'. He filled up the gas tank, paid the attendant, then went to the pay phone at the corner of the building and dialed Ezra's home number. It began ringing, and Fenton smiled, thinking of his family.  
  
Wood knelt down and lifted Joe from his position cuddled on Frank's arm. Joe's eyes flew open, and he emitted a low scream of fright.  
  
Hearing Joe's cry, Frank awakened, and saw the masked men hovering over the bed. "Put him down!" Frank screamed, struggling to his feet on the bed.  
  
Billy shoved Frank down as Wood turned to leave with Joe still in his arms, too frozen with fear to struggle.  
  
"Leave my brother alone!" Frank shrieked, scrambling off the bed and running after Wood. He began beating Wood in the small of his back with his fists.  
  
Billy grabbed Frank and hoisted him effortlessly into the air, where he held him for a fraction of a second before dropping him abruptly to the floor.  
  
"No!" Joe cried out, then, not wanting Frank to get hurt. "Leave him alone!"  
  
"Shut up, you imbecile!" Wood bellowed at the little boy in his arms. "You've caused more than enough problems already!"  
  
Joe's eyes filled with dread, but he refused to be hushed. "Leave him alone!" he pleaded. "I promise, I'll never run away again!"  
  
"You got that part right." Wood snarled. "When I get through with you, you won't ever be able to stand again, let alone run."  
  
"You aren't taking him!" Frank spluttered, getting to his feet once again. "He's my brother now, and you can't take him!" he added. Billy plucked him off his feet once more, holding him in midair, but Frank kicked him solidly in the jaw, causing the big man to drop him again.  
  
Frank got to his feet and started to launch himself at Wood, but Billy caught his shoulders and held him immobile.  
  
"Brother?" Wood inquired, with a lift of his eyebrow as Frank's words registered. Wood looked at Billy. "Hardy thinks he can take what belongs to me, does he?" he questioned in a silky, deadly voice. "I think perhaps it is time he learned a lesson. Bring him." he ordered.  
  
Obediently, Billy scooped Frank into his arms.  
  
"NO! NO!" Frank screamed, and struggled wildly to free himself from the big man's grasp.  
  
Ginger parked her car and pulled the little crutches from the back seat. She could see the living room light on, and she wondered if Laura had left it on for her, or if she had waited up. Ginger unlocked the back door and entered the kitchen. As she set down the crutches, she heard scuffling noises, and Frank's frantic screams.  
  
Not thinking of the danger she was putting herself in, Ginger raced for the boys' room. She halted abruptly when she saw the two masked intruders manhandling Frank and Joe. "Put them down!" she ordered fiercely, even though she felt as if her knees would buckle beneath her.  
  
Wood didn't even bother replying. He dropped Joe to the floor, cast and all. Joe cried out in pain and Frank in protest, as Wood removed a pistol from behind his back, and aimed it at Ginger. Before she could move, he fired off three rounds, point-blank, each bullet finding its mark in the tender flesh of the courageous woman. Ginger fell to the floor...as the phone began to ring.  
  
When Ezra walked into the police station, he heard pandemonium reigning. Putting two fingers in his mouth, he gave a shrill whistle. Talking and movement ceased as all eyes turned toward him.  
  
"Thompson! Report." Ezra ordered the officer nearest him.  
  
"It's Morrow, Chief." Thompson replied somberly. "He was shot about an hour ago, in the park."  
  
"What was he doing in the park?" Collig demanded, but no one answered him. "Get Simpson up here, now!" he barked, and headed for his office.  
  
Once inside, Ezra picked up the phone and started to dial Agent Rathbone's number, only to realize that he didn't know whether Morrow's murder had anything to do with the Wood case. He set the receiver in its cradle and buried his head in his hands, grieving for his friend.  
  
The sound of a throat being cleared brought him from his reverie, and Ezra looked up to see freckle-faced Officer Simpson standing in front of his desk.  
  
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Simpson asked.  
  
"Get down to Dispatch, and trace all calls made on Morrow's line." Collig instructed him. "I want to know what he was doing in the park."  
  
"Yessir." Simpson turned to leave.  
  
"And Simpson-" Ezra's voice detained the young officer, and he turned around inquiringly.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Find out if he was working on anything in the field."  
  
Simpson nodded soberly and departed. Ezra rubbed the back of his neck. He had a bad feeling that Sal's death was somehow related to the Wood case, but what could Sal have found out that would take him to the park without backup? Could he have discovered something about the bomb at Zippy's? If so, why hadn't Sal told someone?  
  
Ezra reached for the phone, intending to call Agent Rathbone after all, but before he could pick up the receiver, it rang. "Collig." he snapped, in a brusque tone.  
  
"No one is answering the phone at your house!" Fenton's panicked voice came over the wires.  
  
"Oh, God!" Ezra moaned, dropping the phone into its cradle and rushing to the door. "Thompson, Andrews, O'Malley, come with me!" he barked, running down the stairs. The three officers followed, hot on his heels.  
  
"Where to?" Andrews yelled, as they stormed out of the building and towards the waiting police cruisers.  
  
"My house." Ezra replied grimly.  
  
When they arrived, the house was silent. Ezra sent Thompson and O'Malley around the back, while he and Andrews went to the front. At the front door, the two men took up positions on either side of the door. Ezra held up three fingers and dropped them one at a time. As the last one fell, he kicked in the door.  
  
Except for the sound of the back kitchen door being given the same treatment by Thompson, there was absolute quiet in the house. As Collig went into the living room, he spotted Laura lying on the sofa. She appeared to be asleep, but there was no way she would have slept through the crashing noise of the doors. He went over to her, and checked her pulse. It was beating normally, but she didn't awaken.  
  
The four officers started a search of the place. Ezra headed for his and Ginger's bedroom, hoping she had merely been drugged as well, but to reach their bedroom he had to pass by the room where Frank and Joe were to sleep. He looked in as he started past - and froze.  
  
Dropping his gun, he entered the room in a stunned daze. "Ginger," he croaked, dropping to his knees beside her. As he reached to touch her face, stared into her unseeing eyes, hot tears began to scald his cheeks. "No." he whispered, unable to accept what he already knew.  
  
"No!" he cried again, his voice gaining in volume. And finally, "NOOOOOOO!" Ezra screamed in anguish as he pulled his dead wife into his arms and buried his face in her hair. He didn't notice - nor would he have cared, had he noticed - that his clothing was becoming drenched in the blood, which covered her body.  
  
The other officers came running into the room, just as a car screeched to a stop outside. In seconds, a man with dirty-blond hair and frantic brown eyes came crashing into the house. Officer Thompson went to see who this intruder was, ready to question him, but the man was already kneeling beside the woman on the couch, speaking her name ever so softly.  
  
"She's okay." Thompson's voice came from behind Fenton. Fenton turned to look at the policeman as the sound of uncontrollable sobbing filled the air. Fenton stood up and walked toward the bedrooms. He had to know - but his face was white, as he imagined Frank and Joe injured...or worse.  
  
Fenton came to an abrupt halt when he saw Ezra cradling Ginger's lifeless body. "Oh my God." Fenton croaked, seeing the pool of blood Ezra was sitting in. "Ezra - Ginger..." Swallowing the lump in his throat, he walked over to his friend, his own eyes bright with unshed tears. Kneeling beside Ezra, Fenton put a hand on his shoulder, and let the man cry.  
  
"Where-" Fenton gulped again, and looked up at Lieutenant Andrews, who stood nearby. Out in the hallway, O'Malley was radioing in for a forensics team. "Where are - the boys?"  
  
"Boys?" Andrews asked, his instincts going to red alert.  
  
"Frank and Joe - my sons." Fenton rasped, his stomach heaving. "They were here."  
  
"There's no one else in the house." Andrews informed the stricken man. 


	14. Chapter 14

Fenton left Ezra's side, and returned to his wife, as the officers began securing the crime scene. After a few minutes, he managed to bring Laura around, urging her to lie still until the dizziness and nausea dissipated, but she was too distraught to remain quiet for long.  
  
"Frank? And Joe?" she demanded, struggling to sit up. Her eyes were wide with terror; they pleaded silently with Fenton to tell her that the boys were safe, and in the next room.  
  
"They - they aren't here." Fenton responded, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Honey, can you tell me what happened?"  
  
"I thought Ginger had come back." Laura began, tears making a path down her cheeks and falling onto the clasped hands in her lap. "I - I went to meet her, but when I got to the kitchen, somebody - a big guy - grabbed me, and put something over my mouth and nose. I remember smelling this sickeningly-sweet odor, and - and...I don't remember anything more!" she ended, dropping her head into her hands and sobbing wildly.  
  
Fenton took her into his arms and held her close, kissing the top of her head, and thanking God that she was unharmed.  
  
"Sir..." Officer Thompson reluctantly interrupted the scene between the husband and wife. Fenton gave him a questioning look. "Chief Collig is in no condition to tell us what's going on here." the man began. "And with two homicides in one night, I'm hoping you can help enlighten us."  
  
"Two?" Fenton inquired sharply.  
  
"Sergeant Sal Morrow was murdered in the park a short time ago." Thompson explained.  
  
Fenton was about to respond to the officer's request, when reinforcements arrived. The paramedics and forensics team went straight through to the bedroom. Officer O'Malley came into the living room shortly after.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," O'Malley said to Fenton. "But could you please help with Chief Collig?"  
  
Fenton sighed and started to rise, but Laura grabbed his arms and held him fast, looking up into his eyes. "What's wrong with Ezra?" she demanded.  
  
"He's...upset." Fenton voiced the understatement of the year. "Stay here, honey." he ordered, as she relinquished her hold.  
  
Fenton and O'Malley left the room. Laura determinedly got to her feet, and tried to follow them, but Thompson moved to intercept her, stepping into her pathway and shaking his head.  
  
When Fenton entered the bedroom, he found Ezra in the same position he had left him, clutching Ginger's lifeless body tightly to him. "Ezra..." Fenton said softly, kneeling beside him.  
  
Ezra didn't hear his name uttered. He wasn't aware the room was full of people. The only thing he knew was that if he let Ginger go, if he released his grip on her, he would never hold her again. More tears flowed as he broke again into soul-shattering sobs.  
  
"Ezra," Fenton repeated, a bit louder. "Ezra, she's gone. There's nothing you can do for her." he added gently.  
  
Ezra froze as Fenton's words sank in, realizing how wrong they were. "No." he declared, his voice deceptively strong despite being choked with tears. "Ginger died protecting your boys." he said, looking into Fenton's eyes. "I won't let her death be in vain."  
  
Fenton, shaken by Ezra's accusing words, released his friend's arm, and stood up. Gently, oh so gently, Ezra laid Ginger down on the floor, and got to his feet, trembling. Heart aching, Fenton guided him from the room.  
  
Laura had demanded the truth from Officer Thompson. When Ezra and Fenton entered the living room, she ran to them and threw her arms about Ezra, her tears flowing as freely as his had. He held her, soaking up the warmth and compassion he so desperately needed.  
  
Fenton left them to grieve together, and returned to the bedroom, where the forensics team was busy dusting for prints and measuring distances relative to Ginger's body.  
  
Lieutenant Andrews stepped up to Fenton, his face grim. "I want to know what's going on." he demanded.  
  
"You're in charge of this case?" Fenton asked, his face still pale. The lieutenant nodded curtly. Fenton jerked his head towards the door, and the two men exited the room, going down the hallway to talk in private. Fenton outlined the case, and made sure Andrews knew exactly how much danger the boys were in, if, that is, they were still alive. "Now, tell me what's been going on in Bayport!" Fenton demanded.  
  
The lieutenant told him of the earlier attempt on Chief Collig's life, and of Sgt. Morrow's body being found in the park. Andrews hesitated a moment, then burst out: "I suspect Morrow was feeding someone information."  
  
"Who, and why?" Fenton asked, furrowing his brow.  
  
"He wasn't working on anything in particular, except this specific assignment for the chief." Andrews stated. "After his body was found, I did some checking. He set up a phone tap at the Bayview Inn - I believe Chief Collig asked him to do that - but the connecting room there was also charged to Jim Wood, and no tap was put on that one."  
  
"Sir," Officer O'Malley interrupted them now. "We found a pair of child's crutches lying near the kitchen table."  
  
"Joe's," Fenton deduced. "I wonder why they weren't in the bedroom?"  
  
"Because I had forgotten them!" Laura appeared in the doorway, and moved to stand beside her husband. Her tears had dried for the moment, but her eyes were red and swollen as she looked up at Fenton. "Ezra was going to bring them over, but his car was blown up before he could."  
  
"So, Ginger must have gotten them at the hospital, when she went there to see Ezra." Fenton concluded. "And if Ginger was seen with them, then your suspect might only have committed an oversight." he added to the lieutenant, not wishing to believe Ezra's trusted friend could be guilty of betraying him.  
  
"For the chief's sake," Andrews said. "I sincerely hope you're right."  
  
"Me too," Fenton murmured softly, as the officer walked away. "Me too."  
  
"Shall we return home, sir?" Billy asked his employer.  
  
"No, I think not." Wood replied coolly. "The boys will be fine where they are until morning." he went on, thinking of them lying bound and gagged in the trunk of his car. Billy pulled to a stop behind the hotel, and the two men got out of the car and went into the building.  
  
Inside the trunk, Frank felt the car come to a halt, and struggled harder with the ropes binding his wrists. In his wriggling, he bumped into something, which he decided must be Joe, for the something emitted a low moan.  
  
Frank had known Joe's father was bad, but he had never realized just how bad - how mean - he was, until tonight. After he shot Ginger, he had picked Joe up from the floor again, and carried him from the room, with Billy carrying Frank - shocked into silence - and following close behind.  
  
Wood knew Joe would be too petrified to cry out, but Billy had clamped a hand over Frank's mouth, warning him that if he made a sound, his mother would die too. When they reached the car, Frank had been bound and gagged and tossed roughly into the trunk. At this point, Joe seemed to have lost some of his fear, for he began struggling with his father.  
  
Wood backhanded his son, causing Joe to bite his lip as his head shot backwards. As blood seeped from his mouth, a gag had been inserted, and Joe's wrists bound behind his back. Another rope secured his good leg to his cast, and then he was dumped into the trunk beside Frank.  
  
Wood and Billy ripped off the masks they wore, and their dark shirts, and tossed them in with the boys. Next, Wood handed Billy his gun. Billy took it, wrapped it and his own weapon in the shirts, and replaced them in the trunk. The compartment was closed and locked, and seconds later, they were underway.  
  
As Frank thought about it, a wave of anger infused him, followed by an intense feeling of gratitude that his own parents were nothing like Joe's father. Frank kept struggling with his ropes, careful not to hit Joe, until he felt the car start up again. Once more, they were on the move.  
  
It wasn't much later when Collig, Andrews, Thompson, and O'Malley arrived at the Bayview Inn bearing a warrant allowing them to search not only the hotel rooms, but Wood's vehicle.  
  
"What's the meaning of this?" Wood demanded, his blue eyes spitting fire at the officers' intrusion. Ezra ignored the man, knowing how easily he could lose control and attack him. Instead, he ordered Thompson and O'Malley to arrest Wood and Billy, and read them their rights.  
  
"On what charge?" Wood snapped, his voice icy.  
  
"Suspicion of kidnapping and - murder." Ezra replied, his voice cracking a bit on the last word.  
  
A search of the two rooms revealed nothing incriminating, so the chief ordered the car searched. Wood and Billy were escorted to one of the police cruisers waiting outside, and put in back, with Wood furiously threatening to call his lawyer, and to sue the Bayport Police Department.  
  
"According to the receptionist, they registered a blue Lincoln Continental." Lieutenant Andrews informed Collig. Nodding, he, Andrews, and O'Malley searched for the car as Thompson kept watch over the prisoners. Ten minutes later, Ezra jerked open the rear door of the cruiser and hauled Wood out, pulling him upright until their noses almost touched. Glaring into Wood's smiling face, he snarled: "Where is your car?"  
  
"It was parked behind the hotel." Wood replied, not trying to conceal the amusement in his tone. "If it's not there, then I would like to file a report. My car has been stolen." 


	15. Chapter 15

Ezra Collig returned to the police station, unable to face going home to a house without Ginger. Besides, seeing all the yellow tape around the door of their guest room would have been too harsh a reminder. Fenton had taken Laura home, saying he would wait for word from Ezra before returning to Burnsville.  
  
Ezra walked into his office and slammed the door. His frustration was beginning to take control. The search at the Bayview Inn had revealed nothing; he had been forced to release Jim Wood and his cohort Billy - chauffeur? Hah! - and file a stolen vehicle report. He didn't for one minute believe the car had been stolen, but without evidence he had no choice but to treat it that way.  
  
Glumly, he picked up the phone and dialed the Hardy residence. Fenton picked it up on the first ring, and Ezra told him about the failed search and the missing car.  
  
"I'll head back to Burnsville." Fenton said, more worried than he cared to admit. "Wood will show up there in the morning, or call, and want me to pick him up."  
  
"Keep me informed." Ezra said gruffly.  
  
"Will do." Fenton assured him. "Ezra," he went on, in a softer tone. "If you need to talk..."  
  
"I know, Fenton." Collig said, his voice filled with what felt like betrayal. "But right now, you're the last person I want to talk to."  
  
"I understand." Fenton said wearily. And he did. If he hadn't asked Ezra to harbor Laura and the boys, Ginger would still be alive. "I'll keep in touch." he promised, hanging up.  
  
Fenton sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Will things ever get better? he wondered. He picked up the handset and dialed another number, this one to the FBI. "Agent Dalrymple, please." he requested. Once he had been put through, he brought the agent up to date.  
  
"I ran a check on the names and businesses you gave me." Mitch Dalrymple reported. "They're all legit, except for Mortimer and Leif. Oh, don't get me wrong." he added. "They've filed all the necessary paperwork and everything, but they only have one client: Wood. You know, if all else fails, we have Wood on tax evasion."  
  
"That's good." Fenton said. "But if you can hold off, we can get the boys back, and probably get him for murder."  
  
Fenton hung up the phone, and kissed Laura goodbye. "Try not to worry." he told her. "Wood will take the boys to his estate - and I'll bring them home."  
  
"But what if he doesn't?" Laura demanded, finally saying what everyone was secretly fearing, but was afraid to ask. "What if he kills Frank? He only wanted Joe."  
  
Laura's words haunted Fenton all the way to Burnsville. If Wood's done anything to Frank, I'll kill him! He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Laura was right. There was no need for Wood to keep Frank alive. He had already killed two people - one more, a small boy, wouldn't matter in the least, to him.  
  
Fenton found himself hyperventilating, and took a few deep breaths to calm down. Wood killed two people - but he took Frank.... he thought, his brows drawing together as he puzzled it out. If he'd intended to kill Frank, he would have just done it, and left his body. He didn't kill Laura, either - just Ginger. She probably walked in on them. And Morrow.... As much as he didn't want to believe it, Morrow probably had been bought. Why else would he have been in the park? Ezra had mentioned that Morrow had been the one to tell Ginger about the car bomb, which meant he'd been to the house, and could have seen Joe. When he had informed Wood, that ended his usefulness, and he'd been disposed of.  
  
Fenton forced himself to relax. If he returned to Wood's estate full of the tension and hatred he felt, he would blow his cover for sure. And until he had Frank and Joe safely away, he couldn't let that happen.  
  
He pulled up to the gate just as the sun was lifting over the horizon. The four Dobermans came running to greet the car, fangs bared, as he moved up to the gate, and thence to the garage. He parked the car inside the garage, noting that the dogs waited just outside. Fenton hit the remote control, and the garage door slid closed, effectively shutting out the Dobermans. He was glad to know the dogs would soon be kenneled until nightfall. He wondered briefly who had this job, since Randy Harmon, the cook, generally released them and put them up; today was Harmon's day off. Well, perhaps he would kennel them before leaving.  
  
Fenton entered the quiet house, and went to the living room. Sweeney and Drecker were both still sound asleep, so Fenton took the stairs to Wood's office. Opening the panel, he checked the monitors, to see if Wood had returned, or anyone was lurking around. Seeing no one, he left the office, shutting the panel, and went to Wood's bedroom. He wanted to find the diamond before Wood returned, for once he had the boys back, Fenton intended to end this case, with or without it!  
  
He began searching through Wood's belongings. After nearly 30 minutes, he had found nothing. He sat down on the bed. Think! he said to himself, biting his lip in frustration. It wasn't likely Wood would keep the diamond on him. Besides, if he'd had the diamond with him, Ezra would surely have found it in his search, unless it was in the car.  
  
Wait! Fenton got to his feet and hastily smoothed the bedspread, to disguise the fact that anyone had been in the room. He hurried out of Wood's bedroom and returned to the office. Pulling open one of the desk drawers, he removed the Rubik's cube - the one item that didn't seem to fit!  
  
Fenton looked at the cube closely. It seemed no different from the one Frank had at home. He tried twisting it. Unlike Frank's, however, this one didn't move. He inspected it again. Aha! he shouted silently, breaking into a grin of triumph. He pulled out his pocketknife and inserted the blade into one groove, which seemed deeper than the others. He applied a little pressure, and one side popped open. Fenton inverted the cube, and a polished, uncut diamond fell into his open hand.  
  
He admired it for a brief moment, then shut the Rubik's cube up and returned it to the drawer. He dropped the diamond into an inside pocket of his blazer, then left the office. He went downstairs and joined the two unconscious men in the living room. Leaning back on the sofa, Fenton closed his eyes, intending to feign the condition the other two men were in, but soon, owing as much to mental fatigue as physical, he fell asleep.  
  
Ezra hung up the telephone, the color draining from his face. My fault, he thought. It's my fault that Ginger's dead.  
  
After speaking with Fenton, Ezra had decided to contact the Bayview Inn. He spoke with the night manager, Merle Bishop. Bishop had been present for the police search, and had been informed of the phone tap.  
  
"We had a tap on room 411!" Collig barked into the phone. "The tap should have covered room 409 as well. I need a list of all incoming and outgoing calls." Ezra continued. "Or will I have to get another court order?"  
  
"No, that won't be necessary." Bishop replied. He looked up the information on his computer. "There was only one outgoing call, to exchange 555-1818. All incoming calls were from either exchange 555-9999, or 555-9998." he informed Ezra. The numbers he mentioned were Ezra's private line and the police department's open line.  
  
Ezra's face went white and he hung up the phone without a word. Now, he buried his face in his hands and wept.  
  
A gentle tap, followed by the door opening a few seconds later, jerked Ezra out of his despair. "Sir?" Lieutenant Andrews poked his head into the chief's office. "I need to talk to you - about Sergeant Morrow."  
  
The chief spat out a string of swear words Andrews had thought only seasoned Navy men knew.  
  
"I guess you already know something of what I was going to say." Andrews remarked, leaning against the doorjamb, and crossing his arms as he gazed at the chief.  
  
"I just talked with the night manager at the Bayview Inn." The chief said with a curt nod. "This is all my fault." he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
Andrews came the rest of the way into Collig's office, and shut the door. "No, it isn't." he told him. "It's Morrow's. If he hadn't been bought-"  
  
"But I'm the one who let him know who was buying!" Ezra erupted, standing up and slamming his hands down on the desk so hard that the cup of pencils near the edge jumped, then tumbled to the floor, unnoticed by either man. "If I hadn't had Morrow listen in on that meeting with Wood, then Ginger..." Ezra broke off, his body once again racked with grief and despair.  
  
"Chief, it wasn't your fault!" Andrews insisted, coming closer to his superior officer and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You were just following protocol when you had Morrow listen in."  
  
It took some time, but eventually Ezra managed to pull himself together, at least temporarily. "Okay, let's hear what you've got." he demanded tersely.  
  
Andrews cleared his throat, hoping his words wouldn't set the Chief off again. "The bullets came from a Beretta .40-" he began.  
  
"Morrow's," Ezra grated, although proof wouldn't come until they found the gun and compared the ballistics data. He realized Morrow hadn't been the one who killed Ginger, but if Wood had Morrow's gun, the two would be inextricably connected.  
  
"Tarnation!" the thundered exclamation jolted Fenton from his sleep. He sat up quickly, fully alert. "We slept plumb through the night in here!" Al Sweeney observed, sitting up in the recliner chair, and pushing the footrest back in.  
  
Beside Fenton, Jonathan Drecker was opening his eyes. "Wh-what?" Drecker mumbled, sitting up slowly, and looking about in some confusion.  
  
"It's almost noon." Fenton declared, looking at his watch.  
  
"Why didn't the cook wake us up for breakfast?" Drecker demanded, looking at Fenton accusingly.  
  
"It's his day off." Fenton informed him, inwardly grinning.  
  
"What time is Jim supposed to be here?" Drecker asked a bit nervously; he had fully intended to be gone from Wood's place by now!  
  
"Speak of the devil." Sweeney muttered, as faint voices could be heard coming down the hall.  
  
Fenton stood up, forcing himself to remain calm. He was anxious to see Frank and Joe, but if his anxiety became apparent, it could prove lethal for them all.  
  
Wood entered the living room, his face creased in a scowl, and stopped abruptly, surprised to see the three men standing there. "Al...I didn't know you were coming." he said, his expression changing to one of confusion.  
  
"We have a problem." Sweeney said, succinctly.  
  
"What?" Wood asked, totally exasperated. He had spent the morning being closely followed by the Bayport police. They had only ended their surveillance when he and Billy left the county, where their jurisdiction ended.  
  
"The list is missing." Sweeney answered.  
  
Wood swung his gaze to Drecker, who threw up his hands and backed away, stopping only when his legs came in contact with the coffee table. "It was Milhouse, Jim."  
  
"Indeed." Wood said skeptically. He took in Fenton's attire. "Why are you wearing the same thing you wore yesterday, Jeff?"  
  
"We fell asleep after dinner!" Sweeney said, before Fenton could reply.  
  
"I believe we must have been drugged." Fenton added.  
  
"By that feller you saw out the window!" Sweeney put in, his eyes going wide. "And we thought you were imagining things!"  
  
"You were all drugged?" Wood demanded, his eyes hardening with suspicion.  
  
Drecker bobbed his head up and down. "Sure thing." Sweeney affirmed. Fenton cast his employer an apologetic glance.  
  
Wood spun on his heel and left the room, running up the stairs with Fenton and Drecker on his heels. Sweeney followed a few feet behind, while Billy brought up the rear. Wood entered his office and strode to his desk. Sitting down, he pulled open the bottom drawer and removed the Rubik's Cube from within. He quickly opened it up. His eyes went dark as he hurled the empty cube across the room. It struck a bottle of bourbon, and both items fell to the carpeted floor.  
  
"Find Milhouse and bring him to me." Wood ordered Drecker, who nodded and left the room in a hurry, apparently well-acquainted with Wood's temper.  
  
Wood looked at Sweeney. "Was there anything else?" he inquired, his voice barely concealing his pent-up anger.  
  
"It - it can wait." Sweeney stammered, not wanting to push Wood too far.  
  
"You're here-" Wood stated. "You might as well have your say."  
  
"Well...it's Marvin Blaine." Sweeney said reluctantly, naming one of the crime lords from his neck of the woods. "He's been muscling in on our territory."  
  
"No, he isn't." Wood said. "I spoke with him just last week. It has been decided that Blaine will take over all of Charleston, and I will get a cut from that."  
  
"But - I'm in charge there!" Sweeney spouted in chagrin. "It's my town!"  
  
"Not anymore." Wood denied. "You see, I've been keeping tabs on you. You've been skimming, and only turning in a third of what you owe me."  
  
"Lies!" Sweeney hissed, terrified. "I would never cheat you, Jim...."  
  
"You mean, you won't any more." Wood asserted.  
  
Sweeney started toward Wood, but froze as he felt the barrel of a pistol inserted into the small of his back.  
  
"Take care of our 'guest'." Wood instructed Billy, who nodded and steered Sweeney out of the room with one hand, keeping the gun trained on him with the other.  
  
"Jeff, I need you to take the rental car to the agency in town." Wood continued, looking into the drawer as if hoping the thief had perhaps dropped something.  
  
"Rental?" Fenton questioned. "What happened to your car?" he asked then, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for the answer. Wherever that car is, Frank and Joe are there! But when it came, he could scarcely believe his ears.  
  
"Some damn fool had the nerve to steal it!" 


	16. Chapter 16

Fenton's face lost all its color. "S-stolen?" he stammered, his tongue thick with fear.  
  
Wood glanced up at his personal assistant, his eyes narrowing as he took in the pallor of 'Jeff King's' face. "Is something the matter?" he inquired coolly, waiting for Fenton's answer.  
  
"N-no, sir." Fenton managed to reply. "It just seems like a lot of things to happen all at once." he ad-libbed.  
  
"Indeed." Wood said ironically, in full agreement. "I want you to find every chop shop in and around Bayport." he ordered. "I will personally deal with them. Get the key to the rental car from Billy."  
  
"Yes, sir." Fenton replied, turning and leaving the office. He raced down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he encountered Billy. "Mr. Sweeney?" he inquired, lifting an eyebrow.  
  
"No longer a nuisance." Billy replied with a significant look.  
  
"Mr. Wood has requested I return the rental." Fenton said then, and waited while Billy pulled a set of car keys from his pants pocket.  
  
"The rental company's name is on the ring." Billy stated. "Bayport's the nearest location. You'll have to take the bus, or a taxi, back."  
  
"No problem." Fenton said cheerfully, swinging the keys around his finger twice before capturing them in his palm. "I have to go there anyway."  
  
Billy nodded. "The police, I'm afraid, won't be much help." he told Fenton, figuring out his reason for going to Bayport. "But Andrew Vance might be of some assistance. For a price." Billy added, and gave Fenton the phone number.  
  
"I'll call as soon as I have something." Fenton said as he left.  
  
Outside the Burnsville city limits, Fenton stopped at a pay phone, only to discover it was out of order. Deciding not to waste any more time, he got back into the rental and continued his trip, not stopping until he reached an empty parking space only yards from the entrance to the police station.  
  
"I need to see Ezra Collig." Fenton announced, when he reached the front desk.  
  
"The chief's not seeing anyone now." the sergeant on duty informed him. Word had come down that the chief had finally fallen asleep, and wasn't to be disturbed for any reason.  
  
"It concerns the man responsible for killing his wife." Fenton insisted, knowing this information would get him through the barrier.  
  
"Go on up." the sergeant instructed, then used his intercom to announce the impending arrival of someone with info on Ginger's murder, to Ezra's new second-in-command.  
  
Upstairs, Thompson met Fenton, his expresssion of expectant excitement vanishing when he realized who the visitor was. "What's up?" he asked.  
  
"Wood's car really was stolen." Fenton informed him, his voice harsh with suppressed emotion. "He doesn't have the boys. Whoever stole the car must have them!"  
  
Frank struggled with the ropes binding him until his wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding. He hadn't heard any sound from Joe for a long time, and he thought he must have either passed out or fallen asleep. It seemed like they had been moving for hours, and Frank wondered if the car would ever run out of gas. He could hear more noise now, than when they had first started. Horns were blaring, and the sound of multiple engines could be heard; even an occasional backfire.  
  
The car they were in slowed down to a crawl. After several minutes at this speed, the car made a sharp right turn, then another, and then came to a stop. Frank heard the driver's door open and slam shut a few seconds later.  
  
Sound echoed in the trunk, as a crowbar was used to pry the trunk lid open. Frank blinked as light assaulted his eyes.  
  
"What the hell?" shouted one of the three men who were looking down at the two little boys. "Get them out of there!" he ordered the other two men, his violet eyes shooting angry fire.  
  
A muscled man with a snake tattooed on his bicep leaned in to lift Joe out. Frank began fidgeting wildly, and the man who had been about to lift him out, stopped and reached for his gag. "No screaming, kid." The man warned, the words coming out with a lisp as he removed the gag from Frank's mouth.  
  
"Don't hurt him!" Frank begged, gazing at the tough-looking man with slicked-back hair who was scooping Joe up.  
  
"I'm not gonna hurt him, kid." the man promised, straightening up with the unconscious boy in his arms. He turned and shot a questioning look at the man in charge. "Where shall I take him, Boss?"  
  
"Take 'em to the office." the boss instructed.  
  
Frank was then lifted out of the trunk, and the two boys were carried into the office by the men. Joe was placed on top of a desk, while Frank was set in a chair.  
  
The 'boss' entered the room, tension giving a kick to his high blood pressure so that his ears were redder than his hair. "What's wrong with him?" he asked Frank, indicating Joe.  
  
"He must've got banged around too much." Frank guessed. "His dad hit him, before he stuffed us in the trunk." he added. Just then, his stomach growled loudly.  
  
The boss smiled faintly at that. "Tell Bob to run out and grab something to eat for these two." he ordered the tattooed man.  
  
"We want to go home." Frank stated firmly, after the man had left.  
  
The boss exchanged a look with the other man. "What were you two doing in that trunk?" he asked.  
  
"His dad kidnapped us." Frank replied truthfully.  
  
"Why would his dad have to kidnap him?" the boss asked curiously, his brow wrinkling.  
  
"Cause we're 'dopting him!" Frank answered with pride.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Cause his dad beat him up." Frank replied with a child's simplicity. "Can you untie us, please?" he begged.  
  
The boss nodded to the chubby man who had carried Frank in, and he set about untying Frank, while the boss untied Joe.  
  
Joe moaned, and moved his head sideways. Once he was free, Frank stood up, intending to go to Joe's side, but his legs refused to support him, and he fell to the floor.  
  
"Easy, Tiger." Chubby said, helping Frank back into the chair. "He's going to be all right; don't worry." He looked at his boss. "What are we going to do?"  
  
"I don't know." the boss admitted, shaking his head. "Stay with him." He turned and walked out the door.  
  
"Boss, Drecker's here." One of the boss's henchmen approached with the news. "He's in a snit."  
  
"He's not the only one." the boss muttered, striding over to where Jonathan Drecker waited, staring at a blue Lincoln Continental with a look of pure horror on his face.  
  
"Roberts, you moron!" Drecker shouted, as the boss approached. "This car?"  
  
"What?" Harry Roberts demanded. "You asked for a blue Lincoln Continental - we got you a blue Lincoln Continental!"  
  
"I wanted it so it could be rigged to explode in place of Wood's Continental!" Drecker fumed. "Harry, you really screwed up this time!"  
  
"Why? This car-" Harry began, but Drecker cut him off.  
  
"Because this IS Wood's car!" he screamed.  
  
"This?" Harry's eyes went wide with shock for the second time in thirty minutes. "You said he lived in Burnsville. Jimmy grabbed this one in Bayport!"  
  
"He was in Bayport for the night." Drecker ground out. "And while I was at his place, someone broke in, drugged me, and snatched the diamond."  
  
"Just you?" Harry asked.  
  
"I had already knocked out Sweeney, and Wood's new P.A." Drecker told him.  
  
"This puts another twist on the thing." Harry commented. "But there's more, Dreck." He crooked his finger at Drecker, and led the way into the office.  
  
"What the hell?" Drecker shouted. Joe, who had regained consciousness and was sitting up, nearly backed off the desk when he saw Drecker. "You kidnapped Wood's kid?"  
  
"Both boys were in the trunk." Harry told him.  
  
"In the...what?" Drecker's voice went subdued. He wanted to be surprised at Harry's words, but he wasn't. He had known Wood too long. He looked at Frank. "What's your name?"  
  
Frank, remembering Joe's reaction to this man, remained silent.  
  
"Look kid," Drecker attempted to reason with the boy. "We can't take you home if you won't tell us who you are."  
  
"Joe, too?" Frank demanded, looking into Drecker's eyes.  
  
"Joe's going home too." Drecker assured him, although he had no idea who this 'Joe' was. "Now, what's your name, and who are your parents?"  
  
"Frank Hardy." Frank answered. "My daddy is Fenton Hardy."  
  
Harry and Drecker exited the office, leaving the two boys under the watchful eye of Chubby.  
  
"Who's this 'Joe' person he's talking about?" Drecker demanded.  
  
"Must be the other kid." Harry said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Frank did say they were adopting him."  
  
"That explains it!" Drecker said mysteriously.  
  
"Explains what?"  
  
"Why Wood grabbed the other boy." Drecker clarified for him "He's very possessive. If someone is trying to take his kid away, even if he can't stand the sight of him, Wood will not only do whatever it takes to get his son back, he'll do anything in his power to hurt whoever tried to take him away."  
  
"If he's so possessive, why are you trying to take over the action here in New York?" Harry inquired bluntly. "Aren't you afraid it'll come back on you?"  
  
"I was going to eliminate him." Drecker said calmly. "That's what the Lincoln Continental was for. He goes to Bertha's Bistro once a week. I was going to load the car with explosives, and trade cars while he was at dinner, putting the detonator on the motor after the exchange. But now-" the forced calmness in his voice evaporated. "-there's no way to pull it off, because YOU STOLE HIS CAR!"  
  
"This nightmare just keeps getting worse." Ezra said an hour later as he and Fenton waited for FBI Agent Dalrymple to arrive. Fenton had phoned the FBI after waking Ezra and bringing him up to date. Ezra had sent two of his men to return the rental car, so that Fenton could have the time to make his phone call.  
  
Agent Rathbone from Internal Affairs had been called, but he was investigating a lead on Burnsville's Chief Greer, and was unable to come to the meeting in Bayport.  
  
Fenton began pacing, while Ezra remained seated behind his desk. Ezra's eyes were bloodshot, and the shadows beneath them made him look ill. Fenton felt a surge of guilt as he looked at his friend, sitting there and staring at the wall, his back stiff.  
  
There came a sharp rap on the door, and it opened immediately after, the newcomer not waiting for permission to enter. Mitch Dalrymple came in, his muscular frame not disguised in the least by the blazer he wore over his dress shirt. The man's hair was thick, but messy, looking as if it were constantly rumpled by a nervous hand. His gray eyes were hard as he came to a stop in front of Ezra's desk.  
  
Fenton brought his pacing to a standstill beside Ezra's desk, instinctively knowing something was very wrong.  
  
"We put a tap on Wood's phone after your call last night." Dalrymple snapped. "Less than twenty minutes ago, he received a phone call demanding one million dollars for the return of Jeffrey Wood." 


	17. Chapter 17

Fenton paled. Jeffrey - Joe - was indubitably worth one million dollars, and Wood would no doubt pay it, just to get his hands on the boy...and then continue to make his life a living hell! There had to be a way around this!  
  
"Wait a minute!" he exclaimed, as an idea occurred to him. "Since Joe - er, Jeff - was in Wood's car, then whoever stole it had to have known it belonged to Wood."  
  
"I don't know." Dalrymple said uncertainly. "The call was made from a pay phone in New York City."  
  
"New York?" Fenton furrowed his brow in thought. "Jonathan Drecker is from there, and he intended on stealing the diamond, so we know he's in on a double-cross." He frowned, looking at Dalrymple with troubled eyes. "Did the caller mention Frank?" he asked, his heart thumping as he waited for the answer.  
  
"Maybe." The agent replied, with emphasis. He didn't want to raise Fenton's hopes too high...just in case. "The guy said he would throw in an additional package which was in the trunk. He might have meant Frank."  
  
"He must have!" Fenton declared, his eyes lighting with hope.  
  
"You said you had the diamond, when you called...?" Dalrymple said, quirking an inquiring eyebrow.  
  
Fenton pulled the stone from his pocket and handed it to the agent.  
  
"Do you think Wood will pay?" Ezra asked, steering the conversation back to the kidnapping.  
  
"Probably not." Dalrymple stated. "My guess is, he'll go for the delivery, then kill anyone around."  
  
"Maybe we can use this to our advantage." Fenton said.  
  
"How?" Collig asked. But before Fenton could reply, the intercom squawked to life, interrupting the conversation.  
  
"Chief, Vance is willing to turn state's evidence against Wood, if we drop the attempted murder charge." Lt. Andrews' voice came through the speaker.  
  
"Do it." Ezra commanded.  
  
"'Vance'?" Dalrymple queried.  
  
"Andrew Vance. He's the contact I was supposed to see." Fenton explained.  
  
"He's also the man responsible for blowing up my squad car - at Wood's request!" Collig growled. "I had him picked up while we were waiting for you to arrive."  
  
Dalrymple nodded his understanding.  
  
Ezra turned back to Fenton. "How?" he asked again. "What do you have in mind?"  
  
"If Drecker has the boys - and I'm almost positive he does - we can move in on him. If we cut him a deal to help us, we may even get Wood to confess to murdering Ginger and Morrow." Fenton suggested.  
  
"Wood has until tomorrow to get the cash." Dalrymple said, giving serious consideration to Fenton's suggestion. He knew they would have to move on Drecker, he was a key suspect in the boys' disappearance. Right now, finding the children was the number-one priority of the department. The murders and everything else were secondary, until Frank and Joe were safely returned.  
  
"Where did the call originate?" Fenton inquired.  
  
"Pay phone on Seventh Street." Dalrymple replied, checking his notes.  
  
"As I recall, that's not far from the warehouse district." Fenton said, remembering the area from his time walking a beat there. "There were several places which would make excellent chop shops." He picked up Ezra's handset. "Let me call Sam, and see if he knows of anything specific. They keep tabs on those places, as a matter of course."  
  
"Who?" Dalrymple asked.  
  
"Sam Peterson." Fenton explained, dialing. "He was my partner when I was with the NYPD."  
  
Ezra and Agent Dalrymple sat silently while Fenton spoke with his former partner. When he hung up, Fenton's eyes were alight with fresh hope. "Sam said he saw a blue Lincoln Continental early this morning, making a turn onto Grower Street. He's going to speak with Chief Smith, and they will scout out the place. We're to report to the chief when we get there."  
  
Ezra sighed. He wanted to be in the bust, but it was out of his jurisdiction. Fenton looked at his friend.  
  
"Ezra, why don't you go to my house? Laura will fix you something to eat, and you can fill her in on the investigation." Ezra started to object, and Fenton continued: "If you don't get some rest, you won't be of any use when this thing does come to a close."  
  
"It won't end here in Bayport." Collig replied, heartsick. I won't even have the satisfaction of slapping cuffs on the bastard who killed Ginger! he thought bitterly.  
  
"Actually, it will." Fenton insisted, trying to draw Ezra out of his settling depression. "We don't want Wood to know it's Drecker who has the boys, and since the car was stolen here in Bayport, that's where he'll need to come to pay the ransom."  
  
Reluctantly, Ezra agreed to go to the Hardy home, and Fenton and Agent Dalrymple left for New York City.  
  
When they arrived at the precinct, Fenton was greeted by several officers, all wanting to know how he was doing. Had he not been so concerned about Frank and Joe, Fenton would have enjoyed spending some time with his old friends, but as it was, he merely returned the greetings, and didn't stop to talk on his way to Chief's Smith's office.  
  
Chief Paul Smith was a man in his late 50's, with graying brown hair and blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He knew Fenton well, and had hoped he would stay with the force, to eventually become Police Chief, but Fenton had made it clear that he preferred to work in the field, and had bowed out just before his last promotion. The promotion had instead gone to Sam Peterson, who had proven as well-equipped to deal with whatever was thrown at him as Fenton would have been.  
  
"Have you found the location?" Fenton demanded as he entered Smith's office, getting straight to the point.  
  
"Hello to you, too - and yes, we have it." Smith grinned. "I've got men surrounding the place right now. Drecker is inside, and I've given orders that he's to be apprehended immediately, if he leaves the premises."  
  
"Let's move." Dalrymple said, and the three men left the office.  
  
They met Sam Peterson near the site. The solidly-built, dark-skinned man smiled warmly when he saw them arrive, his deep brown eyes lighting with pleasure at seeing his former partner.  
  
"Fenton!" Sam said, going over and clapping him on the back. "The boys are safe." he quickly assured his old friend. "They were sitting in the office eating ice cream, when I went for a look."  
  
"Thank God!" Fenton said, his face relaxing for the first time in almost two days. "Are we ready to move in, then?"  
  
"Affirmative." Sam replied. "I assume you want to be near the office?" Fenton gave him a look, which spoke volumes. "Right." Sam said, grinning.  
  
At that point, Chief Smith spoke up. "Fenton - I've just got to say it....Ah, hell, man - you look sick as a blond." he said, his expresssion changing from serious to comic.  
  
Fenton burst out laughing.  
  
"That's for sure!" Sam agreed. "But we already knew that - from when he used the same disguise during that armed robbery case, right before he left the force."  
  
"Back to the plan, people." Dalrymple said, but he was smiling as well.  
  
Smith unrolled a blueprint of the warehouse they were about to invade. "Our men are stationed here, here, and here." he said, indicating three of the exits shown on the blueprint. "The office is in this area, and has a window which is big enough for entry. They have one man, armed, guarding the boys. All the others are in the outer section, with the stolen automobiles."  
  
He glanced at his listeners. "Hardy, you and Peterson station yourselves at the window to the office." he ordered, his manner reverting back to a time when he had been used to giving orders to the two of them as a team. "Dalrymple, you can come with me. We're going in through the front door. We'll give them a surprise like they've never seen." he added, grinning at the thought.  
  
Fenton and Sam quietly made their way to the office window and took up their positions, waiting for the action to begin. Smith gave the order to move to his men, and they all burst into the shop.  
  
The man guarding the boys heard the commotion outside the office, and went to investigate. Fenton broke the glass on the window and reached inside, unlocking it and raising the pane. He climbed through...and almost immediately found himself under assault! 


	18. Chapter 18

Frank and Joe had been listening apprehensively to the commotion outside the office where they were being held. When the man watching them left the room, they didn't know what to think - and then there came a crash of breaking glass!  
  
Joe cried out in terror, and Frank, too was startled. He watched as a hand groped through the broken window, unlocking the casement - and then a tall man with dirty blond hair scrambled in through the open aperture. Frank blinked - and then launched himself across the intervening space!  
  
"Dad! Dad!" He threw himself at Fenton and hugged him tightly around the waist, recognizing his father even through his disguise. "I knew it! See Joe, I told you Dad wouldn't leave us here!" He turned to Joe, who smiled a bit hesitantly at him. The fear was fading slowly from his eyes.  
  
Fenton lifted Frank into his arms, enveloping him in a tight bear hug as he moved away from the window and toward Joe, who was ensconced in one chair with his cast propped on another. Sam Peterson climbed through the window as Fenton set Frank down, and Frank waved at his father's former partner happily. Fenton bent over Joe, embracing him with no less fervor than he had Frank, but more gently, because of the bruises evident on his fair skin.  
  
"Thank God you two are all right." Fenton said, his voice muffled on Joe's shoulder as he held him. He leaned back and surveyed both boys, drinking in the sight of their faces, forgetting about Sam, who opened the office door and went to join his fellow officers in making the arrests.  
  
"You two are okay, right?" Fenton asked then, searching Frank's face for any injury, and then gently examining the new bruise on Joe's face, where Jim Wood had hit him the night before.  
  
"We're okay." Frank confirmed. "You look funny." he added, looking at Fenton critically, and taking in the new hair color and the moustache. "But - he shot Ginger." he added sadly.  
  
"Who did?" his father asked, thinking that Billy Catherson would be the one to do hard time for this, but wishing Wood would get more than an accessory charge.  
  
"My...my father." Joe choked out. He began to cry. "He killed her. It's all my fault...I'm sor...sorry...."  
  
"Oh Joe, it isn't your fault. Not in any way is it your fault." He took Joe's tear-streaked face in his hands, and looked into his eyes. "None of this is." He could see that Joe didn't believe him. "Listen, baby, your father...he's into a lot of very bad things. He's - a bad man. None of that is your fault. What he did to you...that wasn't your fault, either. It's his fault...no one else's. And I am going to make sure that he never hurts anyone - especially you - ever again." Fenton promised him.  
  
Joe desperately wanted to believe him - but everything about this man and his family seemed too good to be true. He had never had anyone care about him, and he wasn't sure how to respond to the things Mr. Hardy was telling him. Joe's eyes moved away from Fenton's face, seeking out Frank, the one person he felt he could trust implicitly.  
  
Fenton released Joe, and stood up, as Frank came over and stood beside them. "We're going home now, right Dad?" Frank asked hopefully.  
  
"Not just yet." Fenton admitted regretfully. "I need you to stay with your Aunt Patricia for a couple of hours." he told them. He would have preferred to take the two to the police station, but given Joe's reaction to the police, he felt this would be too traumatic for him after everything else he had been through.  
  
Joe looked askance at Frank. Another new person? What if this Aunt Patricia was put in danger too...as Ginger had been?  
  
"She's Uncle Sam's wife." Frank informed him. "Uncle Sam was the other guy who came in the window." he elaborated, gesturing toward the door where Sam had exited. "He's not really our uncle, but he told me to call him that."  
  
"Sam and I used to work together." Fenton explained to Joe. "His wife will take good care of you two, while I work out some details with Sam."  
  
"Daddy," Frank said, tugging on Fenton's pants to get his attention. "What about Joe's dad? Will he try and take Joe away again?"  
  
"No." Fenton promised. "Never again. That's why I need you two to stay with your Aunt Pat. Sam and I are going to make sure he can't get near Joe - or you - ever again."  
  
After Frank and Joe had been entrusted into Pat Peterson's care, Fenton called home to let Laura and Ezra know they were safe. He promised a tearful Laura that he would bring the boys home tonight, and he informed Ezra that he would fill him in on the interrogation, and the deal they intended to cut with Jonathan Drecker. Hanging up the phone, Fenton looked at Chief Smith.  
  
"Let's get to it." he said.  
  
Drecker was waiting in an interrogation room, his wrists still cuffed behind him as he sat in a chair at the conference table. A uniformed officer stood just inside the doorway, keeping watch.  
  
"You!" Drecker shouted, when he saw Fenton. "You're a cop?!"  
  
"No, I'm a private investigator." Fenton corrected him. "And before you ask, I took the diamond."  
  
"But I..." Drecker began. His eyes went wide. "There never was anybody outside, was there? You switched drinks with me!"  
  
"That's right." Fenton agreed pleasantly, taking a chair directly across from the man. Smith seated himself on one side of Drecker, and Agent Dalrymple sat on his other side. Sam Peterson stationed himself by the door, having relieved the officer who had been standing there.  
  
"What do you want with me?" Drecker demanded, his eyes taking on a shrewd look.  
  
"We don't want you, especially." Dalrymple informed him. "We want Wood."  
  
"And you expect me to help?" Drecker gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Why should I?"  
  
"Because you're being charged with grand theft auto, for starters." Smith stated.  
  
"That's all you got on me," Drecker sneered. "I'll be out in no time."  
  
"We have a bit more than that." Fenton assured him. "The diamond wasn't the only thing I found when I searched Wood's house." he asserted. "Wood kept records of his business dealings," he expanded the truth. "We have you on several charges. Including dealing in drugs." This last was a fib, but knowing Drecker was a junkie pretty much guaranteed he would have connections on that account.  
  
Drecker blanched. "What do you want?" he muttered.  
  
"You help us nail Wood and Billy Catherson, and we'll only bring you up on the grand theft charges." Dalrymple proposed, knowing that was all they really had on the man anyway. The papers Fenton had faxed to him did nothing more than connect Drecker to certain members of the underworld. It contained no evidence they could use to convict him.  
  
Drecker pretended to think it over.  
  
"Of course, we could let Wood know that it was your men who stole his car...and you who decided to hold his own son for ransom." Sam Peterson left his post by the door, and came over to stand behind Drecker as he spoke.  
  
"Fine!" Drecker caved in, terrified at what Jim Wood might do to him if he knew about the car...and the ransom demand. "What do I have to do?" 


	19. Chapter 19

When they were finished at the police station, Fenton and Agent Dalrymple picked Joe and Frank up from the Peterson home, and Dalrymple drove them all back to Bayport. Ordinarily, the boys would have been tired and sleepy by this time, but they had both crashed for naps while visiting 'Aunt Patricia,' and were wide awake and excited to be returning home after their adventures.  
  
Late though it was, lights still glowed in the windows, and when Fenton opened the front door, Laura came running into the foyer. Frank ran to meet his mother, and threw his arms about her in a big hug, as she bent to scoop him up. She squeezed him tightly, burying her face in his neck until he squirmed to be released. Then she went to Fenton, and took Joe from him, and kissed his forehead. "I've missed you two so much!" she exclaimed, hugging Joe as she sat down on the couch with him.  
  
"Is Ezra here?" Fenton asked, watching Laura's interaction with Joe. Frank, meanwhile, ran off to the bathroom.  
  
"He's in the downstairs guest room." she replied, her face losing some of its happiness. "He finally fell asleep, about an hour ago."  
  
"I'll talk to him in the morning, then." Fenton said. "Right now, I need to call Wood and tell him I have a lead on his car...and then I'm going to turn in!" he added, preparing to leave the room.  
  
"Hold it right there!" Laura commanded. "You owe me some details, don't you think?"  
  
"One of Drecker's men stole Wood's car, not knowing who it belonged to." Fenton began a hasty condensation. "After the boys were discovered, a call was made to Wood, demanding one million dollars for their return - but we got the boys back, and after getting some information from Drecker, we set up the trade to take place here in Bayport. We're going to use the old Feldman warehouse, and set it up as a fake chop shop. When Wood gets there, we're going to try to get a confession, but at the very least, we'll have him for kidnapping, and the FBI is going to go ahead with Sal Morrow's and Ginger's murder charges." He ended his spiel, breathless.  
  
Laura had to chuckle at the hasty rendition, but sobered almost immediately. "But there aren't any witnesses." she pointed out.  
  
"I saw him kill her." Joe said softly. "So did Frank."  
  
Laura had been afraid of that. She hugged Joe closer, and kissed his hair. "The boys are too young to be witnesses." she protested to Fenton.  
  
"No, they aren't." Fenton denied. "Although I'll admit, it would be much easier on them if we had a confession."  
  
"What about the gun used to shoot Ginger?" Laura asked.  
  
"It was in the trunk of Wood's car." Fenton told her. "But there weren't any prints on it. However, it looks like it may have been Sal Morrow's gun, and if we can tie Morrow's murder to Wood, then we may be able to push Wood or Billy Catherson into admitting Ginger's murder."  
  
"But if you can prove they took Joe and me, then everyone will know they killed Ginger." Frank observed, coming back into the living room.  
  
"Not necessarily, son." Fenton shook his head. "Wood's lawyer would argue that she could have been killed after they left with you two."  
  
"But we saw him do it!" Frank insisted.  
  
"I know." Fenton stooped down until he was on eye level with his son. "But your mother and I don't want to put you boys through testifying unless there's no other way. Understand?"  
  
Frank nodded solemnly. "But promise me one thing." he asked. Fenton nodded, waiting for the request. "If he's going to get away with it if Joe and I don't testify, promise you'll let us?"  
  
"All right," his father said. "I promise."  
  
"Is anyone hungry?" Laura asked, looking from one sober masculine face to another.  
  
"We stopped at the Golden Arches on the way home." Fenton explained, when both boys shook their heads.  
  
"Okay then, bed for everyone!"  
  
Fenton took Joe from Laura's arms and carried him up the stairs. Laura followed, with Frank's hand nestled securely in hers. When they reached the boys' room, Fenton set Joe on the bed, and told him he'd be right back. While Frank changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, Laura began helping Joe undress. Fenton went downstairs and checked the windows and locked the doors before turning on the burglar alarm. Then he hurried back to the boys' room.  
  
In just a few minutes, the boys were in bed and the lights turned off. Fenton left the door open, just in case they needed anything during the night, and then he and Laura went to their room.  
  
"You think they'll be okay?" Laura asked nervously, glancing back down the hallway.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure they will." Fenton pulled her close and hugged her reassuringly. "Wood thinks whoever stole his car has them. He won't be looking for them here. And after tomorrow, we won't ever need to worry about him again!" He kissed her, and then sat down on the bed to make his phone call.  
  
"Yes?" Wood snapped, when Fenton was finally put through to his erstwhile employer.  
  
"Sir, I believe I may have located your car." Fenton told him.  
  
"Where?" Wood demanded.  
  
"I located two chop shops, but neither had your vehicle," Fenton informed him carefully, knowing he was driving Wood crazy by not getting straight to the point. "However, I then heard of another, also located here in Bayport. My source said he saw one of the men who steals cars for it, driving a blue Lincoln Continental, last night."  
  
"That's excellent, Jeff!" Wood congratulated him, although Fenton could hear barely concealed agitation in his voice. "Where is it located?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet." Fenton told him. He heard Wood's frustrated indrawn breath over the wire, and winked at Laura, grinning into the receiver, but he managed to keep his voice serious. "But I've been following a man who answers to his description, for the past four hours. I should be able to give you a location by morning."  
  
"Good." Wood snapped. "Stay with him, and call me as soon as you have the location." he ordered, and abruptly hung up the phone.  
  
Fenton replaced the receiver, smiling with satisfaction. Laura crawled onto the bed behind him, and put her hands on his shoulders, snuggling her head against his back.  
  
"I love you." she whispered.  
  
Seconds later, their light went out.  
  
"Fenton..." a soft murmur was heard in the darkness of the room, some time later.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"I'll be very glad when that mustache is gone...."  
  
By the time Laura awoke the next morning, Fenton was up and gone. She went to check on Frank and Joe, who were still sleeping soundly, then she showered and dressed. Going downstairs, she peeped into the guest room, and found it empty, the bed neatly made. Things must be moving along, she thought as she began to prepare breakfast for herself and the boys.  
  
Down at the police station, Chief Ezra Collig was all business once more. He had organized a meeting for the officers who were to be involved in the bust going down later that day. Lieutenant Andrews, Sergeant Thompson, and Officers O'Malley, Simpson, Heather, Pennington, and Carmichael were to go in undercover, as mechanics in the chop shop. They would be busily involved, taking cars apart, when Wood arrived. Agent Dalrymple and his FBI men would set up stations around the perimeter of the warehouse and wait.  
  
Ezra had insisted that he be the man in charge of the chop shop, and the instigator of the ransom demand. He wanted to deal with Wood personally. This idea didn't sit well with Dalrymple, who was afraid that Collig might decide to take justice into his own hands, but Fenton knew Ezra better than that. He managed to convince Dalrymple that Ezra would be perfect for the position. Collig was currently being worked on by a makeup team, and dressed in his bulletproof vest; they knew the danger he was going to face.  
  
The warehouse itself was undergoing a transformation at the hands of the Forensics team: microphones, cameras, the cars which had been taken from police impound for the scene. Fenton's job was to connect with Wood, and show him where to go. It was assumed that Wood wouldn't allow Fenton into the building with him, even in his guise as personal assistant 'Jeff King,' so Fenton intended to watch from a van which held the monitoring equipment.  
  
The trap was set. Now all they needed was the mouse. Fenton placed his phone call.  
  
"Sir, I have located your vehicle." Fenton reported, when Wood was on the line.  
  
"Where?" Wood demanded.  
  
"It's a supposedly deserted warehouse down near the docks. Sir, these men seem to be dealing in more than stolen cars." Fenton added, preparing to use some of the information they had gleaned from Jonathan Drecker.  
  
"What do you mean?" Wood wanted to know.  
  
"Well, sir...when I was - er - exploring the premises, I found a map of Charleston, and one of New York City. Each map had areas marked as either belonging to someone named Stovmyer or Clautz, in Charleston, and Sumaine or Fredericks, in New York. I also overheard two men talking about sending a briefcase filled with cash to Sumaine in New York, and an order to inform him that another million was on its way." Fenton concluded.  
  
"Sumaine?" Wood asked, his voice tight. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Fairly sure, yes sir." Fenton replied. "Do you know him, sir?"  
  
"Indeed I do." Wood said in a deadly tone. "He has been attempting to take over some of my holdings. Did you happen to hear just where this Sumaine was?"  
  
"No, sir, I'm sorry." Fenton apologized. "But I understand he is expected to be arriving here this afternoon."  
  
"All right, Jeff. I want you to meet me," Wood instructed Fenton, "at a place called Mel's Diner, out on the Shore Road."  
  
"I know where it is." Fenton confirmed. "What time?"  
  
"Be there in an hour." Wood ordered him. "I'm leaving now."  
  
"He bought it." Fenton informed Dalrymple and Ezra, as he hung up the phone.  
  
"I don't understand why you brought this Sumaine fellow into it." Ezra commented. "How is that going to help get a confession about killing Ginger and Morrow?"  
  
"According to Jonathan Drecker, Sumaine used to be Wood's partner." Fenton explained. "But Wood tried to kill him, by setting fire to his home, with him tied up inside. He survived, but had to have extensive plastic surgery. Sumaine died last month in a car wreck, but Wood doesn't know that. Drecker only knew because his cousin's best friend was dating Sumaine's brother."  
  
"Which only means that Jim Wood has a reason to be afraid of Sumaine." Ezra stated. "I can see where my pretending to be him might be beneficial in getting him to try to kill me, but I still don't understand how that will help get a confession about killing Ginger."  
  
"That's where letting him 'kill' you with what he thinks is Sergeant Morrow's gun comes in." Agent Dalrymple told him. "We all know the criminal mind. From what Fenton has told me, you should know what buttons to push, to get him to confess before he shoots you." The FBI man uttered a somewhat sardonic chuckle. "Hopefully, Ezra, he'll go for the body, and hit your vest."  
  
Ezra blinked a bit at this cold-blooded description of his proposed demise, but he took a deep breath, and grimly said "Let's do this."  
  
The officers left with Ezra, and Agent Dalrymple left to take care of his part of the operation. Fenton used the spare time to phone Greg Rathbone.  
  
"We're closing in on Wood." he informed the Internal Affairs agent.  
  
"Excellent!" Rathbone said. "I have some news for you, as well." he stated. "I arrested Chief Greer of the Burnsville police, last night. He confessed that he's looked the other way regarding Wood's various crooked dealings."  
  
"How did you pull that off?" Fenton demanded in pleased surprise.  
  
"I let Greer think that Wood had no further use for him, and had accused him of running a protection scam." Rathbone said.  
  
"And he bought it?"  
  
"Hook, line, and sinker." Rathbone chuckled.  
  
"That's great news!" Fenton declared, his eyes shining.  
  
"Well...yes. But there is some bad news, too." Rathbone admitted reluctantly.  
  
"What do you mean?" demanded Fenton, his face going sober.  
  
"Greer escaped from jail early this morning, and we have no idea where he may be headed." 


	20. Chapter 20

Fenton couldn't help worrying over this bit of news, but as he glanced at his watch, he realized that he needed to get going, if he didn't want to be late. "Greg, keep me posted?" he requested Rathbone, who promised he would. Fenton hung up, and departed for Mel's Diner.  
  
Jim Wood and Billy got there about 20 minutes after Fenton's arrival. Fenton drove the duo to Feldman's warehouse, and parked the car. "It's in there," he informed Wood. "Sumaine arrived right after I hung up with you." he added, pointing to the telephone booth near the corner.  
  
"All right Jeff, wait for us here." Wood commanded as he and Billy exited the car. Fenton nodded, realizing he would now be in the position of driver of a getaway car following a murder. He fervently hoped things went down as planned, in the warehouse!  
  
He waited until Wood and Catherson entered the building before leaving the car and going down the street to where a beat-up old van was parked. Fenton knocked on the rear door, and was admitted inside, to watch the performance on the monitors.  
  
The two men walked warily into the warehouse, trying to glance in several directions at once. Although it seemed innocuous enough, with several cars being stripped for parts by the 'mechanics,' both Wood and Billy Catherson were tense with nerves. When a sudden voice accosted them, both jumped slightly in surprise.  
  
"Wood?" Ezra growled in a guttural voice. He had undergone a miraculous change in looks. His brown hair was covered by a wispy black wig, and his face bore scars all along the right side, while the left side was so shiny it looked more like plastic than flesh.  
  
"Sumaine?" Wood asked in an incredulous voice, his eyes taking in the appearance of the man before him.  
  
"What are you doing here, Jim?" Ezra demanded, in that same deep growl. He was doing an impressive imitation of a man with damaged vocal cords.  
  
"I changed my mind." Wood said. "I decided not to give you anything." He removed a Magnum .45 from its holster beneath his blazer. "Return my son and the other kid, and I won't kill you." he offered.  
  
"You wouldn't dare," Ezra informed him. "My men would never let you leave this place alive."  
  
"They like money." Wood stated coldly. "They will be more than willing to work for me, if the price is right."  
  
"You may be right about that," 'Sumaine' conceded. "But I have something that will make you give me my million, regardless of whether or not you get your son and that other brat back." He smiled thinly at Wood, the flesh of his scarred face tightening. "You left something besides boys in the back of your car." he rasped, pulling out a Beretta .40 and aiming it at Wood. "I'd say we're at a stand-off."  
  
"Or not." Wood replied, as Billy Catherson, who had been standing silently observing the interchange, gave a sudden roundhouse kick which knocked the gun from Ezra's hand. Billy retrieved the weapon and aimed it at Wood's supposed former partner.  
  
"I'll take that, Billy." Wood told him, taking the gun and pointing it at Ezra. "It appears the odds are all in my favor." he said. "I've gotten used to this weapon," he continued, holding it up and aiming at Ezra's heart. "It prevented that Collig bitch from keeping me from what is rightfully mine, and it's going to keep you from doing the same." With these words, he fired the gun.  
  
Ezra staggered back two steps, but remained upright, protected by the Kevlar vest beneath his clothing. Wood's eyes widened in disbelief. He took aim to fire again, but before he could, the gun was blasted out of his hand.  
  
"What the...?" Wood gasped in surprise. He turned, and beheld Chief Barry Greer standing in the doorway of the warehouse, brandishing a weapon at him, his beady green eyes filled with rage.  
  
"You bastard, Wood!" Greer snarled. "Turn me in to Internal Affairs, will you?" As he finished speaking, he began firing, emptying the rest of the bullets from the chamber.  
  
When it was over, the 'mechanics' closed in on Greer, taking him into custody and relieving him of his weapon. But it was too late for Jim Wood and his associate, Billy Catherson. Both men lay on the ground, dead.  
  
Fenton came into the warehouse with the FBI agents. He looked for his friend, and saw him, and saw Ezra staring at something only he seemed able to see. Fenton could almost swear he was looking at Ginger. Ezra's breathing was labored, giving Fenton the notion that he was having difficulty controlling his emotions. Fenton went to him, took his arm, and led him outside.  
  
"It's over...." Ezra rasped - and began to cry.  
  
Seven months later, Fenton, Laura, Frank and Joe gathered in the judge's chambers in the courthouse of downtown Bayport. They were there for a momentous occasion.  
  
Laura gazed at her two boys fondly, mentally reviewing the past seven months. It's been a very happy time, she thought. We've been so lucky!  
  
Joe no longer wore the cast on his leg; the bone had knit well, and now he was as active as Frank, and growing rapidly. The physical scars were healed. The only remaining evidence of his abuse at his father's hands were the nightmares he still had. But as time passed, these had become less frequent. Where there had once been a frightened, abused child shrinking into the shadows, now there was a happy, sunny-natured one, with a constant mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes, and an open, loving smile for nearly everyone he encountered.  
  
One hitch had occurred, Laura remembered now, when a note had come home from school, from Joe's teacher, Mrs. McIntyre. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, the note had begun, It has come to my attention that Joe is having difficulty with pronouncing some words, and I suggest the possibility of speech therapy for him.... Joe had been startled and upset, and Laura and Fenton somewhat worried - but Frank had laughed, and explained about Mrs. McIntyre. A phone call to Chet Morton's parents had reassured the Hardys that Joe really didn't need speech therapy, any more than Chet had, and a brief interview with Mrs. McIntyre had ended the situation. Joe's friendship with Chet had blossomed from that point; they felt they had something special in common.  
  
Frank's acceptance of Joe never wavered - Joe was his 'baby brother,' with all the perks and privileges entailed in that sort of relationship, and he took his 'big brother' status seriously, looking out for Joe at every turn. Laura smiled now, thinking about that. Joe was growing so fast he was catching up to Frank in size, and occasionally chafed at Frank's protectiveness - but only occasionally. Although rapidly developing a more outgoing personality than Frank's, Joe still clung to the older boy for emotional support.  
  
Joe was looking a little tense at the moment. He had been told that this meeting was about him, and he was worried about what that might mean. He was very happy with the Hardys, and didn't want to consider the possibility that he might not be allowed to remain with them.  
  
Judge Carlson entered his chambers, and everyone stood up. The judge, an older man with white hair, looked at Joe and winked as he sat down. Joe gave him a faint smile in return.  
  
"Does everyone know why we're gathered here today?" Judge Carlson began.  
  
"Yes, Your Honor." Fenton replied.  
  
"Yes." came from the corner of the room, where a blonde, green-eyed woman who appeared to be in her late twenties sat.  
  
"Ms. Greene?" the judge inquired of the young woman.  
  
"Yes, Your Honor." she replied.  
  
"Your sister's will specified that you be named Jeffrey Wood's legal guardian, should Jim Wood be unable to properly care for his son. I understand that you have agreed to forfeit your guardianship?"  
  
"Yes, Your Honor," Ms. Andrews answered. "I'm not the proper person to raise a young boy. Besides," she added, smiling at the Hardys. "I don't think my nephew could find anyone who loves him more than the Hardys do."  
  
Camellia Greene had been contacted the day after Jim Wood's death, and told of Daisy's will, which Fenton had discovered in the hidden safe. She had been prepared to take Jeff, and raise him as her sister requested, but after observing the way Jeff had been accepted and treated in the Hardys' home, and hearing their plea to adopt him, she knew what her decision had to be. Although she would have done her best, being single, she knew she couldn't provide the sort of family life the Hardys could.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Hardy," the judge said then, turning to the couple. "It is my understanding that you desire full custody of Jeffrey Wood."  
  
"That's correct, Your Honor." Fenton replied for both of them.  
  
"And I am given to understand that you want Jeffrey Adam Wood's name legally changed to Joseph Paul Hardy?" the judge continued.  
  
"Yes!" Joe interrupted. "That's my name!" he exclaimed, smiling at Frank. Frank had named him Joe, but Laura had wanted Joe's middle name to be Paul, after her father. Frank's middle name, Robert, was Fenton's father's name.  
  
"Very well," Judge Carlson said, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm. "By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I hereby grant the name change and the adoption. Fenton and Laura Hardy, may I introduce you to your son, Joseph Paul Hardy?"  
  
"YIPPEE!" Frank shouted, and everyone laughed. Fenton, Laura and Frank joyfully embraced the newest member of their family, who happily returned their hugs. Camellia Greene also hugged her nephew, just a little sadly, for this was really goodbye.  
  
"Your Honor," Fenton said, when things had quieted down a little. "I do have a question regarding Joe's inheritance."  
  
"I have looked over your proposition," the judge told him, smiling. "Joe's inheritance will be placed in a trust until he is 21. Until that time, his affairs will be handled by a board of trustees, and you, Mr. Hardy, will have the right to review any and all decisions made on Joe's behalf, until he comes of age. Is this acceptable?"  
  
"Yes, Your Honor, thank you." Fenton answered.  
  
"Now that that is settled, I have one more directive for you." Judge Carlson said. Everyone looked at him questioningly. He smiled broadly. "Go out and be a family."  
  
THE END 


End file.
